A Rider's Blood
by Mariah.James.Wolff
Summary: Finished. Final chapter is up. Eragon's best friend is a Dragon Rider, like himself, but she's a girl. In a world where males rule the battle field, can she stay alive? Brom Saphira Murtagh Arya Mariah Mark Andrar Inheritance Cycle Brisinger. Reviews always welcome!
1. Updates, Information, and Characters

**This is part One of Four stories in _A Rider's Inheritance._  
**

**A Rider's Blood is Part One (1) so read this one before moving onto Part II (2).  
**

**Disclaimer:** This story is a FanFiction based on the events in those books, and some parts may be similar or exactly the same as parts of the book. If I took note of them all, this comment would never end. Just know that some parts are mine and some parts belong exclusively to Christopher Paolini. I do not take credit for any of his words, merely intertwine them with my own to write this story. If there are any questions, please contact me, leave a comment in a review, etc. Thank you.

Author Notes: As I am writing this, I am re-reading the Inheritance Cycle. Currently I'm on page 497/497 of _Eragon_ - The Mourning Sage

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**A Rider's Blood Characters**

_As of Chapter Forty-One: Blood_

Author updates after every new chapter, spoilers will be kept to a minimum on this page and will be posted with a warning if they are **absolutely necessary***

***Review Comments** will be added to the bottom of this page and labeled as to when they were added*

**Upcoming:**

None

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**Main/Current:**

_**Mariah**_ – Age: 15 Black hair to her chin, green eyes. Slightly shorter than Eragon.

Typical Clothing: red tunic with tan pants. Avoids dresses for practical reasons, likes dresses when she's not going to get into fights or dirty. Tight fitting black gloves with good grip on weapons. Knee-high black boots and riding cloak, usually with a hood.

Weaponry: Sword usually tied to her belt, daggers and knives usually located in her boots and at her waist. Magic from training with Brom and being a Rider.

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**_Marcus_** – Age: 17-18 Black hair to his ears, blue eyes. Taller than Eragon. Scar over his left eyebrow in his hair line.

Typical Clothing: green tunic with brown pants. A brown hooded riding cloak clasped at his collar with brown knee high boots.

Weaponry: Able to use a sword well from training with Brom. Bow and arrows, used for hunting. Obsession with magic, talented from reading so many informational books and practice.

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**_Eragon_ **– Age: 15-16 Blond hair, blue eyes.* Slightly taller than Mariah.

Typical Clothing: white tunic with tan jacket and brown pants. Brown boots.

Weaponry: Learning swordsmanship and magic with Brom.

*Yes, I know. Eragon has brown hair and eyes in the books. However, I like the contrast with Mariah's hair color to his, and no one else has blond hair. If you don't like him having blond hair, then ignore this and think brunette with brown eyes instead. I myself am brown haired, so I have nothing against brunettes. I just like picking on Eragon about his blond hair because it's so out of place.

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**_Murtagh_** - Age: 18 Shaggy dark brown hair, gray eyes. Slightly taller than Eragon.

Typical Clothing: brown tunic with brown pants. Brown boots. All well worn.

Weaponry: Hand-and-a-half sword. Hunting knife.

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_**Arya**_ - Age: Unknown Long black hair, vibrant green eyes. Tall and thin.

Typical Clothing: bandages and Mariah's spare tunic and leggings.

Weaponry: Elvish sword and bow.

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**Deceased:  
**

**_Brom_ **– Age: Unknown, Silver hair, blue eyes. Taller than Mark

Typical Clothing: Brown cloak, boots, leggings and dark blue tunic.

Weaponry: Sword and magic.

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**Creatures:**

Dragons:

**_Flayme_**_ (__now **Andrar**)_ – Red-orange scales. Male. Mariah's dragon. Several months older than Saphira.

_**Saphira** _– Ocean blue scales. Female. Eragon's dragoness.

Horses:

**_Aluora_ **– Marcus' dusky white mare, with black mane, tail, legs, ears and nose-tip.

_**Snowfire** _– Pure white stallion. Brom purchased him in Therinsford. Mariah rode him after Brom. Lives at the Varden.

**_Cadoc_** – Light bay horse Brom purchased for Eragon in Therinsford. Eragon named him after his grandfather.

_**Tornac**_** -** Murtagh's Gray stallion.

Other:

_**Solembum **_- A werecat. He lives with Angela at her Herbalist shop in Teirm. Now in Farthen Dur.

**_Ra'zac_** – Servants of Galbatorix. Eragon wants revenge against them for killing his uncle Garrow.

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**Other:**

Enemies:

_**Durza - **_Shade Eragon and Mariah fought in Gil'ead. Red hair and eyes. Vampiric looking, teenager. Eragon kills him during the Battle of Farthen Dur.

**_Morzan_ **– One of the thirteen Forsworn/Wyrdfell Riders.

_**Galbatorix** _– King of Alagaësia, Dragon Rider.

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Allies:

_**Ajihad**_** -** Human leader of the Varden. A friend of Brom's. Interrogates Eragon and Mariah and answers their questions when they arrive.**  
**

_**Orik**_** -** Dwarf from the Varden who rescued Eragon and Mariah from drowning in the waterfall pool. Nephew of King Hrothgar.**  
**

_**Nasuada**_ - Ajihad's daughter. Lives in the Varden and assists her father in many ways. She is exceptionally beautiful and no one knows of her mother.

**_Hrothgar_**_- _Dwarf King who helps to lead the Varden alongside Ajihad. Also Orik's uncle.

**_Roran_** – Eragon's cousin. Left before Garrow's death for work in Therinsford as a blacksmith's assistant.

_**Garrow**_ – Eragon's uncle, Roran's father. Died at the hands of the Ra'zac when they destroyed his home.

**_Angela_** - Herbalist in Teirm. Likes frogs and riddles. Is also a witch who told Eragon his fortune with Dragon Bones.

_**Jeod**_ _**Longshanks **_- Graying with a beard. Friend of Brom's from when they were younger. Owns a shipping company. Knows about Saphira. Helped Eragon and Brom find the Ra'zac.

_**Helen Longshanks** _- Blonde with a pale complexion. Wife of Jeod.

**___**_ – Mark and Mariah's father.

_**_ _** _- Mariah and Mark's Mother

**_Horst_ **– Blacksmith in Carvahall

_**Elain** _– Horst's wife

**_Gertrude_ **– Healer in Carvahall

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**OC Other**: Characters created by the author for story purposes that do not appear in the books.

**_Jenna - _**Gypsy woman met on the road to Teirm**  
**

**_Kyan_ -** Jenna's husband, leader of Gypsy merchant caravan

_**Azraa**_- Jenna and Kyan's daughter, eight years old

_**Fadil**_- Jenna and Kyan's eldest son, eleven years old

_**Maher -**_Jenna and Kyan's younger son, six years old

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**Review Comments and Questions**: _Author Answers_

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**Posted 3/23/2012**

I'd just like to start by saying I chose to write this story from page one of _Eragon_ because I didn't want to just throw in my own characters without any sort of background. I knew at which point I wanted to start, then realized I couldn't... throwing Mariah into the middle of a battle, saving Eragon's life, for example, just wasn't going to work. No one was going to care about her saving his life. No one was going to care that she was crying as he lay there dying in front of her. No one would care that she was his best friend, through thick and thin, all his life when no one else seemed to care about him. And Mark, who would have given a damn about him? He's just the OC Dragon Rider's older brother. Big deal. No one would care. Except for me.

That's why I bothered writing probably two-dozen chapters I otherwise wouldn't have... and now, onto review comments.

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**After ****Chapter 30**

"Oh yeah... I got the LOTR reference... I just didn't know if it meant you were gonna crossover into that venue. Was Mark reading a rare history book? or was it the Alagaesia equivalent of fiction?"

No, I'm not going to do a Lord of the Rings crossover by any means. That material to me, is untouchable. I wouldn't dare defile Tolkien with my pathetic writing abilities.

On Mark's book: Fiction with a little Fact. I'd prefer to think of it as a mix of both. In Alagaesia, Dwarves and Elves are definitely going to seem more realistic than the real world we live in. However, no matter how realistic or based on fact, there definitely is too much fiction in Tolkien for it to be a straight history of Alagaesia. It's more in the literary category of Historical Fiction for Alagaesia.

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**After Chapter 33  
**

"That the presence of a second dragon-rider-pair and another warrior has not resulted in any discernible difference is a bit disappointing. It is great to see the story revisited and see how you have added to it, but I would like to think that their presence might alter the course of events {and hopefully in a positive way...}"

Yes. It is quite boring and ridiculously similar. The beginning of the story however, is very linear. The only way I could have changed it would have been to drastically change it. Or have Mariah and Mark separate from Eragon and Brom (in turn Murtagh). And I tried to think of a few ways to go about it and chose not to split up the party.

I assure you that I am going to change much more now that the basics of the story are set up. I want Mariah there, yes... but Eragon's the main character in the first book. He's the important one. Mariah's quite static, in case you haven't noticed. She's just kinda there. It's intentional. Hopefully there'll be a point where I can say for certain that the entire chapter is my own writing, but we're not there quite yet.

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**After Chapter 33**

"Can't wait to see how this plans out. Seeing as you've altered the events of the novel. Wonder who will kill Durza between Eragon and Mariah. Do you intend to do the whole Inhertiance Cycle with Mariah included or are you just doing Eragon?"

Honestly, I can't either. I don't remember events from the second or third books and I didn't really remember all that much from _Eragon_ either. I haven't even read Inheritance yet. I haven't even opened the cover up. (I mostly still can't get past the eye coloring of the green dragon being gold... it's so wrong. And I do not even know his name yet... nor do I want to know, so please don't spoil it.) I'm writing a lot of this as I go. There are points at which I regret not having put something in a previous chapter, or want to change something, but I'm choosing not to, because that's just gonna get confusing.

I can't tell you who's gonna kill Durza. That'd just be lame. I don't like spoilers anyway (besides, I haven't even thought about that yet - you're way ahead of me on this one).

My intention is yes, to do the whole Inheritance Cycle with Mariah. And the shift will be more towards Mariah, I've always intended it to be so. Sometimes it's hard... especially when there's so much explaining in the first book as to what's going on.


	2. Ch 1: Prolog: A Girl from the Mountains

**Chapter One: A Girl from the Mountains**

_I don't remember my mother well… nor my father. _

_They both died when I was very young. _

_He had black hair… hers was red, stunningly beautiful red, like a rose in full bloom. _

_Their eyes, or so I'm told, held more love than one could imagine in an entire lifetime. _

_One's soul can be read through their eyes – nothing was tainted about my parents… nothing._

_Daughters look like their fathers and sons look like their mothers. _

_We both have his black hair but I have his eyes. _

_My brother has our mother's sapphire eyes; I have my father's emerald-jade color. _

_I can only picture what they looked like, their faces._

_ I believe my brother looks exactly like my father and he thinks the same of me to my mother. _

_It's never bothered us, not knowing them… we've always had each other._

_Some of my earliest memories are of my brother holding me in his arms. _

_He's nearly three years older than I am, but we're still very close. _

_Our grandfather adopted us after our parent's death. _

_We have no other family… had… no other family besides him. _

_Without him, our lives would have been lost during that first cold winter, I'm sure. _

_We could love him no more than we do, still, than any other we will ever know. _

_He took us in, became our father, in a sense. _

_For fifteen years of my life, my grandfather raised me until his death. _

_Afterward, my brother became my entire world, my entire family._

_ He was my mother, father and brother._

_ I know, without him, even at the age of sixteen, I would not have survived, but… now I'm getting ahead of myself._

_This is my story. _

_Our story… and I want to share it with you, before I leave._

_ For, I never do know where the morning wind will take me again after the dawn breaks…_


	3. Ch 2: Shadows of the Flame

**Chapter Two: Shadows of the Flames**

_Dear Father,_

_Our house burned tonight. We watched as we flew away upon our horses with nothing more than our children and the clothes we own. What little money we had is being saved best we can. My husband is now stealing what we need; I do not like this life. I feel we shouldn't have to live by taking from others, like a leech. _

_My daughter was just born during the summer and winter is coming, sooner this year than last. I fear that if we do not find a place to remain soon, our shadows will come sooner than I ever want. _

_I ask of you, this one request: Will you help me? I have not spoken with you for many a year however, I hope at this juncture that you acknowledge me and my children, who are in desperate need of you. _

_We travel towards Teirm at this very moment, which is the last I know of where you were. Jeod will know your current whereabouts, I trust. I hope that I meet with you soon._

_With Love_

Later that same day, she sent the letter. The woman with the long red hair; no one could forget her easily. She sent it by air, with an eagle. _Swift eagle, if you would be so kind as to deliver this letter to Father. _She spoke with the bird with her magic and shared with him an image of the man from her memories; with a single cry he took flight away eastward.

Within a fortnight, the city was burned however, a rider, called Morzan, and his dragon decimated it to nothing but rubble. Both parents died protecting their children from the chaos that ensued…

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Mark woke up, blinked twice at the early morning and pulled himself out of bed, yawning. He ran his fingers through his ebony hair and stretched. Walking over, he selected a dark blue tunic, pulling it over his chest before stepping into a pair of brown leggings, nearly tripping as he did so. Shuffling around, he found his belt laying under his bed, winding it around his waist tightly. Sitting down on the edge of his bed, he pulled his boots on and snatched up his brown cloak, tying a small money pouch to his belt before stepping out of his room and walking down the hall to his sister's room.

"I'm going to town, you coming?" He called, knocking on the door. There was a crashing sound, then a grumbling curse followed by a shout of, "Yes!"

The door swung open, green eyes meeting blue. "I cannot believe you are up already. What are you so excited about?"

"Nothing brother," she said, smiling. "Shall we go now?" Not waiting for an answer, she strolled ahead and walked outside, pulling her black gloves on and wrapping her matching cloak about her tighter to fight off the fall chill. Her heeled boots clicked as she stepped on the stone outside.

Mark shook his head but smiled and strode down the hall. "We will be back soon!" He told an open door. From inside the dim library a grumble came, sounding much like, "Alright." And they were off.

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Edit: Chapters seem short right now, but they increase later on to a more suitable length. Word count is around 500 but increases to 2,000+ around Chapter 12. The difference being 2 years absence from the story...

With love as always, Mariah


	4. Ch 3: Of Forests and Dragons

**Chapter Three: Of Forests and Dragons**

No one dared enter the Spine, not unless they were absolutely daft. Though, this was not the case with the two children currently walking into the dreaded mountain range.

They were safe, they knew this.

The first was a tall, young man of seventeen or so, the second his younger, by two years, sister. Both claimed dark, jet-black hair and cool eyes of blue and green. Though younger and smaller than her brother, Mariah could use a sword just as well as he, and her magic seemed to be twice as strong as his and twice as unwieldy. In a spar, she could very well hold her own.

In the tiny village of Carvahall however, no one knew of this part of them; villagers merely took them to be foolish young children whom had no common sense as to the dangers of the Spine.

They knew better.

Mark, after looking behind him to make sure that no one had followed or would be following, slipped into the shadows of the trees, taking to a path that had long been there.

"I thought we were going to town, brother," she said, trotting behind him. He waved at her to be quiet and continued on in silence, listening to the birds singing within the tree limbs high above.

Just as the trees began to tighten, and one had to crawl through the thorny underbrush to merely move, the forest parted, leaving a large clearing in front of the two siblings.

Within the spacious clearing, stood a large, red dragon…


	5. Ch 4: Red Magic

**Chapter Four: Red Magic**

Mariah blinked once and it was gone. She'd stopped along the edge of the trees, frozen, staring. Her brother turned towards her, "Something wrong?"

"No. Nothing," she shook her head to clear her mind and hopped along after him. They had not made it halfway across the little clearing when a sudden rush of energy engulfed them. Both knew the sensation well, though not in such vast amounts.

Mark pulled his sister behind him, backing up along the tree line again, looking around with sharp eyes, waiting for the magic to show itself. Then, it was gone. The sudden release was odd, confusing but was unmistakable. Someone had charged the magic for a spell and had dropped it nearly instantaneously.

A sudden rustling caught their attention again; their heads flicked towards the sound, only to drop again in relief and slight frustration at an elderly man walking up along the path they had just taken.

"I thought you two said you were headed for town," he told them, pausing at the sight of them before continuing onwards.

The two trotted after him; Mariah turned towards her brother, hissing, "I told you. We should have just gone to town and been done with it."

"Maybe you should have said something sooner, you knew the way I was taking wasn't towards town. Besides–"

"Maybe you both should have just told me you were going to the Spine, hmm?" The two stopped their bickering just in time to notice that their elder had stopped, and that they hadn't. Mark barely had time to stop before he bumped into the man. "Well, at least you're together in your lies," he chuckled a bit and turned on them. "But, next time I catch you out here without telling me first, I'll be sure to give you proper punishment. Clear?"

"Yes, sir," they muttered, looking quite ashamed of themselves. They each shot a glare at the other as soon as he turned to sit upon a log. Pulling out his pipe, he motioned for them to sit, lighting it and smoking thoughtfully. It seemed like forever for the two children, who had since started fidgeting, thinking they were going to get a lecture after all.

He removed his pipe from his mouth slowly, his eyes distant. "You two should go back and head for town…" Mark nodded, standing up, looking over at his sister.

"C'mon Mariah…" he blinked, holding his hand out for her. As she stood, the magic surge came again. Once more the two moved to the tree line; this time though, they stayed closer to their elder, who seemed perfectly calm. The magic charge kept growing until Mark began to wonder if it was even possible to contain that kind of power. Then it was gone again, a loud popping noise hurt his ears, a bright flash of light forcing his eyes closed. The light and sound ceased together, and before the three sat a shiny red stone. Later, Mariah would have told them that it looked quite content, though extremely out of place sitting there all by itself. There were no scorch marks upon the grass, nor was there a crater from the sudden burst of energy. No, the stone was perfectly nestled in a clump of tall grass, as though it had been there for ages.

The man sitting upon the log sighed quietly before extinguishing his pipe, tucking it away, standing up slowly and prowling cautiously over to the stone. He looked it over quickly and picked it up in his arms. Mariah blinked, not liking him touching the red stone at all, and reached for it slightly. Withdrawing her hand back to her side she asked in a soft, meek voice, "What are you going to do with it, Brom?"

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Edit: Chapters are now at around 700-1000 words.


	6. Ch 5: Dragon Tales

**Chapter Five: Dragon Tales**

"I am going to take it home," he said, "Does it honestly look like it belongs here?" Brom asked her, blinking once as if it were the simplest question in the world.

She beamed, "Can I carry it then!"

His eyes narrowed, "I can handle it darling." Brom said, turning and walking back down the trail.

"'I can handle it,' he knows perfectly well that's not what I meant," she told Mark who was snickering at her.

He shrugged, "Doesn't want you touching his new treasure I guess. You know how he is…" Mark told her, following after Brom. "Or, at least you should by now."

She rolled her eyes and followed the two males in silence for a while, listening to the trees. All the while a light hum erupting in her ears. That stupid magical popping sound was still bothering her.

It took nearly a half hour to get back home through the forest; once out of the woods, Brom turned to them, "Why don't you two go to town like you told me earlier, hmm? I'll take this home with me."

"Okay," Mark said, before his sister could speak a reply of her own.

"And you are not to tell anyone about this," he motioned towards the red stone tucked under his arm, "Understand?"

"Why not?" Mariah spat out, having already decided to tell her friend about it.

Brom sighed, "Because, you know as well as anyone that folks 'round here don't like talks of magic and whatnot…"

She folded her arms, "I don't like that rule. What's the point in finding something cool if I can't even tell anyone about it?"

"That's what makes it so special darling," he said, "That you're the only one who knows. So, this is our secret, agreed?"

"Agreed." They said solemnly.

"Good. Now go, have fun and waste all your money on whatever you want to waste it on." With that, Brom turned and shuffled inside the house, closing the door behind him.

"Still don't get why I can't tell anyone," she muttered.

"Stop it, we're nearly there Mariah," Mark told her as they rounded another bend, coming upon a small house. She looked around her brother who was blocking her view and scanned the surrounding farmland.

"Hey!" She shouted, running ahead, stopping at a fence; looking over at the boys. "There you are."

Roran waved and continued his work, nodding to the younger boy who looked at him for permission to leave for a moment.

"You're busy," Mariah stated, watching Roran for a moment.

He grimaced, "Yeah…"

"We could help," she said. Though she'd said it a thousand times, never would he agree, "Magic."

He shook his head, "You know Garrow doesn't like charity."

Mariah blinked, giving her same answer, "It's not charity; it's helping out friends who deserve some help."

Smiling, as he always did afterward, he shook his head, "No. Thanks though… I always appreciate the offer."

"I know, now go help your cousin before he decides to kill you after all. I'll just sit her and watch, waiting for you to ask for some help." She told him, beaming.

"Stop it," he said, "I'll be done in a couple of hours. I'll meet you two back here then, alright?"

"Alright, Eragon," Mariah said, sighing. The boy grinned and rushed back to help Roran again.

"We're home," Mark called, stepping inside again, glancing in Brom's room. "Hey, what're ya up to?"

"Come in here, both of you."

Mariah exchanged a glance with her brother and followed him into the treasure-infested room. "What is it?"

"This is a dragon egg. I knew you would ask about it, so I think it best to simply tell you. I don't want you touching it though," he told them, looking at them.

Mark blinked, "But I thought you said that the king was the only one with a dragon…"

"He is," Brom started, "However, in existence, there are four other dragon eggs. He currently has one in his possession. The others, The Varden have been keeping hidden from him along with some help from the Elves in DuWeldenvarden."

"Why would it end up here?" Mariah asked him suspiciously.

He looked at her, "Because whoever had the egg in their possession thought it best that it be sent here." Brom continued, "If either of you touch this, and it bonds to you. You shall forever become a Dragon Rider, and we don't want that… not here… not one of you two." His voice distanced and came out quietly at the mention of the Dragon Riders, as it always did when he spoke of them.

"But why here? Why now?" Mark asked him.

"The Rider is close to here, maybe many miles from here, but closer to here than where it previously was…"

"That means it could be anyone in Carvahall. What if-"

"NO! No what-if's… neither of you are to touch it or speak of it. Am I understood?"

Mark nodded, "Yes, sir."

"Mariah?" He asked, looking towards her.

She blinked, barely nodding, staring towards him. Her eyes lingered upon the stone for a moment before he turned and put it up upon on of his shelves…


	7. Ch 6: Blizzard

**Chapter Six: Blizzard**

"You're sure?" She asked, looking glum.

"Yes, I'm sorry…"

"Don't be, you can't do anything about the weather," she said, smiling thinly. "I just hate the cold." Mariah shivered dramatically, pulling her invisible fur coat tighter around herself. "It always bothers me so."

"Then you should move where it's warmer, perhaps the desert?" He suggested, chuckling.

Mariah glared at the boy, "Hush Eragon or I shall throw you to Mark, which is worse than throwing you to a wolf."

He continued his laughter, "Oh, I'm so afraid." Eragon mocked.

She sniffed haughtily at him and rolled her eyes, a smile still spreading across her face. "So, about the traders?"

"Oh, yes. Uncle says that he's afraid they may not come this year, with conditions this bad. They're late already and he thinks we may have buy any spare supplies from the townspeople."

"I'm sure they'll come," she reassured him. "Now, the snow will be here within the week and I will not get to see you so much during the winter time; that is what bothers me."

"I'll still be here when spring comes," he told her.

She huffed a sigh, "Well, that's just fantastic however, being stuck inside with all the snow and no one but my brother or grandfather. That is not going to be fun."

He smiled, "Well, you think I like it out here, so far from town with only Roran and Garrow?"

"Yes." She told him, nodding.

"Yeah, you're right; I do like it out here." Eragon told his friend. "Oh well, you'll live through the winter time, and you can always come out here if it's not too cold."

"And risk getting stuck in the snow?" She asked him, raising her eyebrows, amazed he would suggest such a thing, "Never."

He shook his head, "Suit yourself then."

"I will," she told him, nodding. "Now, I really should be getting back if I want to make it to town before sundown." The little house was close to ten miles away from Carvahall, and without her horse, even running would take at least an hour. "I'll see you when the traders come!" Mariah called, turning away, waving.

Eragon laughed, "Of course!"

Two days later, a vicious blizzard blew out of the mountains and settled over the valley. The snow came down in great sheets, blanketing the countryside in white.

Mariah groaned, pacing the floor in front of the fireplace, "Why? I hate snow." She growled to anyone willing to listen.

Her brother sighed, "Because it's winter, sister. And we're in Carvahall, it always snows at this time."

"Patience darling," the old man said, reading over his book, turning a page thoughtfully. "The storm will pass within a few days…" She sat down and then stood, frustrated, marching to her room.

Tossing under the blankets, she jammed a pillow over her head, trying to get the buzzing sound out of her ears. Mariah moaned and muttered a spell, hoping to quite it. The spell didn't help. She rolled over onto her other side and filled her head with warm, sunny thoughts to drive away the passing blizzard.

Days later the storm finally passed, revealing an alien world of soft white drifts. Mariah glared outside when it finally quit, disliking that her grass had vanished. To further her annoyance, she found that her breath was visible in front of her when she exhaled.

Aluora, Mark's mare, stamped her feet outside, snorting at the snow. Her dark eyes looked up at the girl and whinnied. Her mane was black, along with her legs, ears and nose-tip; her ebony tail thrashed in contrast with her dusky white body. She trotted at the girl and nickered again, begging her come outside.

The girl wrinkled her nose at the she-horse, "No, thank you. It's much warmer inside."

Just as she was about to close to door, Mark ran back up to the house, "The traders are here!"


	8. Ch 7: Legends and Fate

**Chapter Seven: Legends and Fate**

Mariah smiled, letting her brother back inside. The old man was already packed and ready. It was like he knew when these events occurred, every time there seemed to be something new happening, he already knew they were coming.

He tossed both of the youngsters their leather pouches full of coins. Mariah's a deep burgundy embroidered in gold and her brothers crushed blue velvet with silvery flourishes around the edges. Mark tucked his into his vest safely, his sister being less careful and tying it about her waist where she could feel its pull on her clothing, knowing if it was stolen she would miss the weight.

Brom leaned on a twisted staff embellished with strange carvings. He wore a brown hooded robe like a friar. A pouch hung from the scuffed leather belt clasped around his waist. Above his white beard, a proud eagle nose hooked over his mouth and dominated his face. He looked at the two with deep-set eyes shadowed by a gnarled brow. The old man grunted quietly and reached for the door, a gold ring on his right hand. Light glinted off a sapphire, highlighting a strange symbol carved on its face.

"Let's go you two," he rasped, opening the door again and letting in the cool, crisp winter air, allowing for the heavy acrid smell of the darker-than-charcoal insides of the house escape outside.

She pranced through the town. In daylight, it was a small earth village filled with shouts and laughter. The traders had made camp in an empty field on the outskirts of town. Groups of wagons, tents and fires were randomly spread across it, spots of color against the snow. The troubadours' four tents were garishly decorated. A steady stream of people linked the camp to the village.

Crowds churned around a line of bright tents and booths clogging the main street. Horses whinnied at the noise. The snow had been pounded, flat, giving it a glassy surface; elsewhere, bonfires had melted it. Roasted hazelnuts added a rich aroma to the smells wafting around them.

Women were buying cloth, while nearby their husbands examined a new latch, hook or tool. Children ran up and down the road, shrieking with excitement. Knives were displayed here, spices there, and pots were laid out in shiny rows next to leather harnesses.

They seemed less prosperous than last year. Their children had a frightened, wary look, and their clothes were patched. The gaunt men carried swords and daggers with a new familiarity, and even he women had poniards belted at their waists.

Mariah looked around warily, sticking close to her brother and Brom. Her eyes zoned in on a glittering area of jewels and gems strung together with silver and gold strands. It took effort, but she looked away again, trailing behind the boys.

After a few hours of walking around, doing more looking than buying, Brom made his way back to the field where the traders were camped. A ring of poles topped with candles had been stuck into the ground around a large clearing. Bonfires blazed in the background, painting the ground with dancing shadows. The villagers slowly gathered around the circle and waited expectantly in the cold.

Mariah sat down near a fire, her brother wrapping a warm arm around her shoulders. Huddling together for warmth, they watched as the troubadours came tumbling out of their tents, dressed in tasseled clothing, followed by older and more stately minstrels. The minstrels provided music and narration as their younger counterparts acted out the stories. The first plays were pure entertainment: bawdy and full of jokes, pratfalls, and ridiculous characters.

Later, however, when the candles sputtered in their sockets and everyone was drawn together into a tighter circle, Brom stepped forward. Mariah watched him with a sharp, intense green stare, the hairs on the back of her neck already beginning to stand. A knotted white beard ripped over his chest, and a long black cape was wrapped around his bent shoulders, obscuring his body. He spread his arms with hands that reached out like talons and recited thus:

"The sands of time cannot be stopped. Years pass whether we will them or not…but we can remember. What has been lost may yet live on in memories. That which you will hear is imperfect and fragmented, yet treasure it, for without you it does not exist. I give you now a memory that has been forgotten, hidden in the dreamy haze that lies behind us."

His keen eyes inspected their interested faces. Mariah followed his sight and watched as his gaze lingered on Eragon last of all. She smiled at the boy, meeting his eyes. _Now I see him. Finally. Just when I'm NOT looking for him, he shows up…perfect._

"Before your grandfathers' fathers were born, and yea, even before their fathers, the Dragon Riders were formed. To protect and guard was their mission, and for thousands of years they succeeded. Their prowess in battle was unmatched, for each had the strength of ten men. They were immortal unless blade or poison took them. For good only were their powers used, and under their tutelage tall cities and towers were built out of the living stone. While they kept peace, the land flourished. It was a golden time. The elves were our allies, the dwarves our friends. Wealth flowed into our cities, and men prospered. But weep…for it could not last."

Mariah's eyes had all but started crying, she already knew what was coming, having heard the tale many times before this. Brom looked down silently. Infinite sadness resonated in his voice.

"Though no enemy could destroy them, they could not guard against themselves. And it came to pass at the height of their power that a boy, Galbatorix by name, was born in the province of Inzilb**ê**th, which is no more. At ten he was tested, as was the custom, and it was found that great power resided in him. The Riders accepted him as their own.

"Through their training he passed, exceeding all others in skill. Gifted with a sharp mind and strong body, he quickly took his place among the Riders' ranks. Some saw his abrupt rise as dangerous and warned the others, but the Riders had grown arrogant in their powers and ignored caution. Alas, sorrow was conceived that day.

"So it was that soon after his training was finished, Galbatorix took a reckless trip with two friends. Far north they flew, night and day, and passed into the Urgals' remaining territory, foolishly thinking their new powers would protect them. There on a thick sheet of ice, unmelted even in summer, they were ambushed in their sleep. Though his friends and their dragons were butchered and he suffered great wounds, Galbatorix slew his attackers. Tragically, during the fight a stray arrow pierced his dragon's heart. Without the arts to save her, she died in his arms. Then were the seeds of madness planted."

The storyteller clasped his hands and looked around slowly, shadows flickering across his worn face. The next words came like a mournful toll of a requiem.

"Alone, bereft of much of his strength and half mad with loss, Galbatorix wandered without hope in that desolate land, seeking death. It did not come to him, though he threw himself without fear against any living thing. Urgals and other monsters soon fled from his haunted form. During this time he came to realize that the Riders might grant him another dragon. Driven by this thought, he began the arduous journey, on foot, back through the Spine. Territory he had soared over effortlessly on a dragon's back now took him months to traverse. He could hunt with magic, but oftentimes he walked in places where animals did not travel. Thus when his feet finally left the mountains, he was close to death. A farmer found him collapsed in the mud and summoned the Riders.

"Unconscious, he was taken to their holdings, and his body healed. He slept for four days. Upon awakening he gave no sign of his fevered mind. When he was brought before a council convened to judge him, Galbatorix demanded another dragon. The desperation of the request revealed his dementia, and the council saw him for what he truly was. Denied his hope, Galbatorix, through the twisted mirror of his madness, came to believe it was the Riders' fault his dragon had died. Night after night he brooded on that and formulated a plan to exact revenge."

Brom's words dropped to a mesmerizing whisper. All seemed to lean in closer to hear him over the crackling flames around them, save Mariah and Mark, who would have been able to read his lips blindfolded.

"He found a sympathetic Rider, and there his insidious words took root. By persistent reasoning and the use of dark secrets learned from a Shade, he inflamed the Rider against their elders. Together they treacherously lured and killed an elder. When the foul deed was done, Galbatorix turned on his ally and slaughtered him without warning. The Riders found him, then, with blood dripping from his hands. A scream tore from his lips, and he fled into the night. As he was cunning in his madness, they could not find him.

"For years he hid in wastelands like a hunted animal, always watching for pursuers. His atrocity was not forgotten, but over time searches ceased. Then through some ill fortune he met a young Rider, Morzan – strong of body, but weak of mind. Galbatorix convinced Morzan to leave a gate unbolted in the citadel Ilirea, which is now called Ur**û**'baen. Through this gate Galbatorix entered and stole a dragon hatchling.

"He and his new disciple hid themselves in an evil place where the Riders dared not venture. There Morzan entered into a dark apprenticeship, learning secrets and forbidden magic that should never have been revealed. When his instruction was finished and Galbatorix's black dragon, Shruikan, was fully grown, Galbatorix revealed himself to the world, with Morzan at his side. Together they fought any Rider they met. With each kill their strength grew. Twelve of the Riders joined Galbatorix out of desire for power and revenge against perceived wrongs. Those twelve, with Morzan, became the Thirteen Forsworn. The Riders were unprepared and fell beneath the onslaught. The elves, too, fought bitterly against Galbatorix, but they were overthrown and forced to flee to their secret places, from whence they come no more.

"Only Vrael, leader of the Riders, could resist Galbatorix and the Forsworn. Ancient and wise, he struggled to save what he could and keep the remaining dragons from falling to his enemies. In the last battle, before the gates of Doru Araeba, Vrael defeated Galbatorix, but hesitated with the final blow. Galbatorix seized the moment and smote him in the side. Grievously wounded, Vrael fled to Utgard Mountain, where he hoped to gather strength. But it was not to be, for Galbatorix found him. As they fought, Galbatorix kicked Vrael in the fork of his legs. With that underhanded blow, he gained dominance over Vrael and removed his head with a blazing sword.

"Then as power rushed through his veins, Galbatorix anointed himself king ofver all Alagaësia.

"And from that day, he has ruled us."

With the completion of the story, Brom shuffled away with the troubadours. Mariah made eye contact with Eragon once more before she hurried after her grandfather, knowing that he would be upset for telling the story and deciding that his comfort was more important than a few quick words with her friend.

When the three arrived back home later that evening Mariah paused by the door, the soft humming sound still vibrating in her ears. It was not possible that it was the same from earlier, when the red flash dropped the stone. Was it?

Brom swiveled, looking at the girl, "What's wrong?" His voice was light, however underneath lay interesting concern and panic.

"I thought I heard something…." She told him, drifting down the hallway slowly without thinking. Opening the door to Brom's study she saw the rock on the table wiggling back and forth. A squeaking chirp emitted from it. Her eyes flicked back to Brom, now encased in the door frame.

"Mariah…" he said in his warning tone. She ignored him and snatched the stone too her; the girl clutched it to her chest, glaring at him. He took a step towards her and she darted through the gap in between him and the door frame, running to her own room, locking the latch behind her. In a moment, shouting came from outside it along with harsh knocking, both Brom and her brother's voices attempting to break it down.

Ignoring them she set the red rock in her lap, her eyes glittering brightly. She moved it onto her bed and watched as white lines spider-webbed along it, cracking. In a moment, the red encasing was gone and out tumbled a regal looking baby dragon.

* * *

I did, in fact, copy Brom's speech and other parts, such as descriptions out of the book. All credit, of course, goes to Chris Paolini (we all love him) and I would thank him personally if only I knew him.

Love, Mariah


	9. Ch 8: Hatchling

**Chapter Eight: Hatchling**

Her eyes glittered as brightly as the scales upon the dragon's flank; as it unfurled its wings, the drowning sunlight shone through the thin membrane covering the boney frame, changing her hand's coloring red as it lay on the bad beside it. Mariah's lips curved up into a smile as it twisted it long neck up at her, squeaking sharply.

"No!" He said, glaring at her, breathing heavily, eyes aflame. The door was broken and now swung on a single hinge.

"It's mine!" She said, standing, blocking the small red animal from his view, her feet separated in a fighting stance, fists clenched.

"No," Brom repeated, trying to get around her. "I will not stand for it."

She snapped back her retort, "It hatched for _me_! Not anyone else. _Me_! I'm not about to let you rip it away from me after it did so." The dragon chirped again and took a stumbling, bouncing step towards the girl guarding him. Mariah turned towards it, removing her gaze from Brom. Her eyes softened and she stretched her hand to its head to comfort the small, frightened animal. A sharp, searing pain ran through her hand. Then around her arm, shoulder and mind in turn before re-routing itself through the rest of her body. She clenched her teeth, refusing to submit to the pain, thankful for years of sword training with her brother and Brom along with all the bruises and cuts they'd caused. When the magic finally broke again, she found herself on the floor, with the dragon curled up on her chest.

* * *

Sitting on the edge of her bed, was Brom, head in his hands, muttering to himself. Mark was on the floor beside her, his hand repetitively stroking her hair. A smile appeared upon his lips as she turned her head to face him.

"Good… you're awake," he said quietly. Brom's gaze flicked to her his eyes no longer holding their scathing manner.

"Well, you disobeyed me… again," he started, "However, it could not be helped. That is the truth of it…" Brom sighed, "You are now a Dragon Rider Mariah… congratulations." He stood and walked from the room without another word.

Mark look down at his sister, helping her to sit up; the dragon flicking its eyes open and jumping from her chest. It licked its forepaw and scratched at its neck scales, looking up at Mariah. He pulled her hair back for her, removing a tie from a nearby table and tying off her ponytail. She stroked the dragon as he started braiding her hair.

"Mariah…" he started, a sigh in his voice, "Brom is extremely upset with you… I hope you understand this…"

"Well he'll just have to deal with it."

"You know how he is about Dragon Riders though…"

"Yes."

"And… I'm scared… for you… I mean… this is a big deal. And if the Empire ever found out… if anyone from town finds out… by the gods… we're in trouble."

Mariah sighed, watching the little ruby dragon for a moment. It snapped its jaws at a fly, swallowing before squealing happily. Mark tied off her braid for her and stood, "It's hungry."

"We have meat somewhere in the kitchen…" she said, picking the dragon up in her arms. It scrabbled up her shoulders and perched there, its front paws pulled to its chest, tail tight around her arm for security. Mariah drifted from her room and into the kitchen, her brother trailing behind her. Shuffling through the cupboards, she found a few strips of meat. The small dragon launched from her shoulder at her hands, landing on the counter top. There it wolfed down the dried up food before chirping happily at her, crawling its way back up her arm and stretching across her shoulders.

"It can't stay in the house," Brom started. "It will be far too large within a few months." He had fully accepted the baby dragon hatchling and was trying his hardest to figure out how to keep it alive without notice. "So, you'll have to allow for it to live in the Spine…"

"Yes grandfather," she said, nodding over her breakfast of eggs and toast. She allowed for the red, cat-sized animal attack her leftovers, setting down her fork. Mariah stroked the dragon's neck with two fingers carefully.

"Today."

She looked over at him, "But it's so small still!" Mariah told him, exasperated. "I can't leave it in the snow like this."

"It'll be fine, believe me."

Looking over at her brother, he nodded, "I'll go with you, we'll find somewhere safe for it to stay."

* * *

The forest was thick and Mariah made sure to take the most obscure yet direct route out of town, hiding the animal from anyone who happened to be out so early. She made her way back to the same spot where the egg had first appeared; the dragon knew it as well, chattering happily as they approached.

"Here?" Mark asked her, kicking the snow out of his way.

"Yes, it'll be safe here… I hope." She set the dragon down and it proceeded jumping into snow banks, vanishing beneath the white puffs of snowflakes. Mariah laughed lightly before turning back to her brother. Together, they quickly moved to make a small house, up in a limb of a fantastic oak about as tall as Mariah's shoulder. Once done, she removed her scarf and twisted it in the bottom before the dragon crawled up her leg, torso and arm into the box. It twisted in the fabric happily before curling up, its eyes remaining on her.

"There, all safe and warm now…" Mariah told it happily, touching her mind to it softly. She could feel its soft purr with her mind, its happiness flooding into her own emotions. The link was foreign but not unwelcome. Her sadness crept in however, when Mark mentioned that it was getting late, and the dragon reciprocated her feelings. It brushed against her gloved hand and squeaked. "I'll be back tomorrow," she promised. It nipped at her but merely curled back up into the scarf, closing its eyes.

* * *

Her gloves were thin, but held in the heat excellently. Which was good, considering the walk to Eragon's was long. They were merely another layer of skin to her, merely ebony in color and did not hinder her finger motions whatsoever.

As she walked, the small red dragon soared over head, looking like a bird so high in the air. Brom had said Eragon had visited during the time she and Mark went out to build the hatchling's hut, and so, having decided to meet with him soon anyways, she had started out early that morning to see him. It was still frigid cold and she could see her breath in front of her.

Ahead, the farm finally came into view. However, Roran and Eragon were leaving. _You've got to be kidding…_

_Looks like they're just heading for town now._

_Great. I do not want to walk all the way back there… _She said to him. The red dragon was indeed a male. And she had not yet decided what to call him. Mariah glanced down at her feet and nodded to herself happily; quickly running a spell back the way she came, she made it look as though she had never come this far, simple and easy to use, not taking much energy. She moved towards the woods quickly, using the same spell to cover her tracks again so they wouldn't notice the footprints leading to the forest. Then she waited in the tree line, watching as they passed her, headed for town.

She turned into the forest, humming happily. _Mariah._

_Yes, what is it?_

_I sense… something… strange._

_What?_ She had no sooner asked the question than entered a small clearing, in the midst of which stood an elegant ocean-blue dragon. Its eyes flicked upwards at the girl and its neck stretched upwards before its head leveled to gaze at her, licking the fresh blood away from its jaws.

The red dragon landed beside his Rider, _That is what, Mariah. Another dragon._

* * *

Edit: Chapter length 1,000+


	10. Ch 9: Snow Flurry

**Chapter Nine: Snow Flurry**

She stared across the clearing at the blood dripping from the blue animal's jaws. Her own dragon pounced in front of her, crouched down, teeth barred as a low growl emitted from his throat. Another snarl started quietly and steadily grew louder before shredding upward in pitch as the blue dragon launched itself at him. His tail lashed fiercely and Mariah scrambled out of the way, trying not to get hit by the scrapping dragons.

Mariah snapped her gaze upward upon hearing the sound of snow crunching under foot. Someone was coming. If they saw her, she would surely be in trouble with the entire town. Thankfully, the blue dragon pulled away upon hearing the din. Her red dragon rushed back to stand in front of Mariah, his tail lashing, still emitting a rumbling growl. She looked down at him, his teeth still barred. _You're bleeding._

_No, it is from her kill, she did not harm_. He was still staring down the dragon in front of them. Mariah looked back up at it.

"Her?"

"Saphira!"

She blinked, "Eragon?" After a clamor in the woods, a thin blonde boy stumbled from the tree line, covered in snow as he ran to the blue dragoness. Mariah stared at him as he looked her over, clear signs of relief coming over his facial expressions. "Eragon?"

His head snapped up and he stared at her. "Mariah."

She stared back at him for the longest moment, the only sounds coming from the two arguing dragons and the winter wind whipping through the clearing.

"Saphira, stop growling." He insisted finally, looking over at her. She pulled her teeth back, lifting her head regally and sniffing, her breath clouding up in front of her muzzle.

"Saphira…"

"Yes, her name is Saphira."

"…is she yours?"

Eragon stared at her for a moment before finally nodding, "Yes… Uh!" He lost his breath as she tackled him to the ground, hugging him tightly.

"That's fantastic! Do you know what this means!" She grabbed his collar, sitting on him in the snow, shaking him slightly in her excitement. "Do you!"

"N-no…" he said, blinking away his dizzy spell as Saphira growled at the girl.

"It means," she said, ignoring the dragoness, "That you and I are both Riders, Eragon."

He looked up at her, "Oh."

"Oh?"

Eragon took another minute before looking off to the side at the red dragon, "Wait. That one's yours?"

She stared at him, twitching slightly, popping him on the head with her fist before getting up and brushing the snow off of herself, "Moron." The red dragon swished his tail, no longer growling as he padded over to his Rider, staring at the boy. "This is Eragon," she said, looking at him. "Eragon, this is my dragon…"

He raised his eyebrows at her, waiting.

"What?"

"It doesn't have a name?"

"He… doesn't… no."

Eragon looked at her strangely for a moment before breaking into laughter.

"It's not funny…" she mumbled, folding her arms.

"Is too," he insisted, clutching his stomach. "You're always so intrigued by those dragon stories Brom tells you, and you have a dragon of your own and he doesn't even have a name!"

She punched him hard in the shoulder, "Shut up moron."

"Still funny," he said, rubbing his arm. "Saphira… this is Mariah. I would appreciate it if you were nice to her… yes, I know she hurt me." He paused, "Yes… she did… yes… but… hey, wait, no!" Mariah watched as the dragoness trotted off into the woods, dragging her tail behind her.

Mariah stifled her snickering with her gloved hands.

"Not funny."

"It is too…" she said, smirking at him.

He looked over at her and smiled, "Mariah."

"Yes, Eragon?"

"Why did we get chosen to be Dragon Riders?"

She thought for a moment, watching him carefully. Finally, she answered with a question of her own, "Why did our parents have to die?" Her red dragon pressed his nose up under her hand, rumbling a purr in his chest. "I couldn't tell you Eragon… I don't know if anyone could."

He nodded, shivering a bit from the cold. "We should get inside… c'mon… Roran's gone in to town with Garrow... the house should be empty for a while longer, we can talk there." Mariah nodded, taking his hand and walking with him through the snow. "Maybe we'll even come up with a name for your dragon," he said. She shook her head, knowing from the tone in his voice that he was smirking at her on the inside.

* * *

I recently got a new fave. sent to my e-mail account, I thank you for reminding me of this open-ended mess. If anyone wants to continue reading who started doing so a long time ago, then they are welcome to do so, by all means. I will try my hardest to finish this story... Love as always, Mariah


	11. Ch 10: Silent Repartee

**Chapter Ten: Silent Repartee**

"Brom did give me a list of dragon names…"

She huffed, rolling her eyes as he brought it up again. "Stop that."

"Aw, c'mon…"

"Still can't believe that you went and spoke with him."

"What else was I going to do? I did want to talk to you, but you were missing and Brom was there…"

"Convenient…"

"Anyways, about your dragon…"

Mariah rolled her eyes at the boy, all too eager to show off his knowledge of dragon lore. "Fine, fine, go for it…"

He grinned, setting down his empty cup and thinking hard, trying to remember, "Jura, Hírador, Fundor, Galzra, Briam, Ohen the Strong, Gretiem, Beroan, Eridor, Vanilor and Roslarb." He counted them off on his fingers, "Those are the ones that stuck in my head."

She blinked at him, "You know… those all don't sound very great to me."

"Well I'm sorry I didn't pick a good name for your dragon your majesty." He scoffed, "Your dragon probably wouldn't like any of them anyways… Saphira picked the last name I said."

Mariah choked out a laugh, "Well I should hope so. Goodness."

Eragon shook his head, sighing at her.

"Lighten up, will you?" Mariah asked him, blinking as the front door opened. Roran blinked between them, Garrow stepping in behind him.

"I didn't know we were having company," Eragon's cousin said, smirking a bit. "Hello Mariah."

"Hello Roran. I was just leaving actually." She said, standing up. "It's good to see you Garrow."

"Always a pleasure Mariah," he insisted, smiling at her.

"I'll see you soon Eragon, bye." Mariah smiled at him before drawing up her hood and stepping out into the snow.

Roran shut the door behind her, looking back at Eragon. Garrow had walked off to tend the fire when he pulled the younger boy into a headlock; he ruffled his blonde hair fiercely and smirked, "You should tell me next time you decide to invite your little girlfriend over Eragon."

"Gah! Roran, get off! And she's not-"

"Yeah, right." He said, roughing him up some more.

Finally, Eragon managed to squeeze from his grasp, catching his breath. He pointed at Roran adamantly, "She's not my girlfriend." With that, he stalked off to his room, fixing his hair as he went.

He watched him go, waiting until he got all the way to his door before calling to him. "Eragon."

"What!"

"You have to help unpack."

He muttered, turning back around and going to unload the bags from their trip into town.

* * *

Mariah looked over as the red dragon stood at the edge of the woods, having waited for her. She smiled some and waded through the snow to him, petting his scales.

_We need a name for you._

_What if I do not want one?_

She shook her head,_ I need to have a name for you. And if you do not have one, I shall suggest some until you think one suitable._

He paused, thinking of the proposition before nodding once, _It seems to be a fair exchange. What suggestions do you have?_

_Well, Eragon gave me a few names that Brom had listed for him._

_Go on._

_Jura, Hírador, Fundor, Galzra, Briam, Ohen, Gretiem, Beroan, Eridor, Vanilor and Roslarb_

The dragon blinked at her, sniffing once._ Those are all names of dragons already, I do not wish to be named after another so quickly._

She smiled, _Of course you don't._

_I wish to have my own name, not another's._

_Then you will have to think of one all on your own._

_But that is much harder than you would think._

_You did not take any of my suggestions._

_They are not your suggestions._

Mariah paused,_ They are not, you're right. I will think of my own and then tell you those names._

He barred his teeth in a dragon-esque smile, _Very well._

* * *

She flopped on her bed, staring upwards as the snow fell beyond her window.

_Is your name… Aiedail?_

_No._

_Brisinger?_

_No…_

…_Istalri?_

_No… why do you simply keep suggesting words in the ancient tongue?_

_Because I do not know what else to try…_

_Simply try your own ideas, please… I do not want to simply be a word._

_Alright… alright..._

_Thrayst… Roeth… Riltan... Essryn… Viruv…_

_Now you're just getting silly…_

_What do you mean?_

_You are just making words up now._

_I don't know what you're trying to get at, dragon._

_I would like a name that is easy to remember and say that is not a word of the ancient language but not so simple that I shall meet another of me in this lifetime._

_You are very demanding you know._

_I do._

_Good… Firenze? Rath? Canas? Flayme? Heath?_

_Those are all good._

She blinked,_ Well then pick one._

_Right now?_

_Yes, why not? If you like one of them, pick it._

_Why should I?_

_Please…? Otherwise I will choose one and call you that until you decide._

_Which would you choose, out of curiosity?_

_Flayme, because I think it's the easiest one to remember._

_Then I choose that one._

She smiled, _There, that wasn't so hard, was it?_

_No. It was not Mariah. Get some rest now._

_Good night Flayme._

_Good night._

* * *

_Aiedail - The Morning Star  
_

_Brisinger - Fire_

_Istalri - Flame - So yeah, Flayme's name is Istalri in the Ancient Language. Go figure.  
_


	12. Ch 11: Precious Burdens

**Chapter Eleven: Precious Burdens**

She flicked her eyes open as there was a rap on her door. Wood upon wood. Mariah sighed a bit and rolled her head over on her pillow to look at the doorway, expecting it to open all on its own. There was another sharp rap.

"Yes… what is it?" She called, trying to keep the annoyance out of her voice.

"It's nearly noon, what are you doing still in bed?" Brom called from beyond the doorway.

_Noon?_ She blinked, "Sorry grandfather, I will be up now."

"See that you do, for I met Eragon in town today he seemed… not troubled, but there was clearly something on his mind."

Mariah got to her feet, dressing swiftly and opening her door, "What do you mean?"

He looked at her and held her gaze for a moment, "Let us discuss it over your breakfast child."

Reluctantly, she slipped past him down the hall to the kitchen, glad to see her brother with a plate in his hand. She stealthily slipped it from his hand and sat down at the table to eat; with a sigh he looked back at her and shook his head, making another plate for himself. "Good morning princess… if you slept much longer you would have become nocturnal."

She made a face at him and ate her food, looking at Brom expectantly. When he said nothing, she nudged him a little with her words, "Why do you think Eragon to be… anxious?"

The old man held her gaze again and waited until she swallowed the last of her meal before speaking. "I have seen his gedwëy ignasia, Mariah. And he came to me not three weeks ago with questions about dragons. A very many questions in such detail that only I might answer fully. Tell me you did not know of this."

Marcus' head shot upward at the notion, blinking between them as Mariah stayed tight-lipped about the matter. "Eragon has a dragon too? He's a Dragon Rider? That clumsy little twerp has is a Dragon Rid-er?" He winced at his sister's glare towards him. "I'm just asking…"

"Mariah, I have raised you better than to lie to me."

"Yes. He does. You have seen it for yourself, why question me about it? It is not a question if you already know the answer…"

"Why did you not tell me before now?"

She sighed, "Because he was frightened of anyone finding out. And he has been uneasy because Roran is leaving-"

"He left this morning, which is why Eragon was in Carvahall. He was seeing his cousin off."

"And he does not want to be left alone without his cousin, who is more a brother to him than that, though he does not feel that when Roran is leaving him. He wishes that he did not have to leave."

Brom nodded slowly, "I see."

"When did you see him in town?"

"Not an hour ago."

"And he has left by now, gone back home I have no doubt." She sighed. "I shall see him soon enough, I just hope that he does not grieve too much that his cousin is leaving."

"I'm sure he'll be fine." Mark told her, standing and cleaning up.

Without a word, Brom stood as well, heading off into his study, leaving Mariah to think over her friend's predicament.

"You are going to have to start killing animals much larger than mice, Flayme, if you have any hopes of not starving to death." Mariah said, chuckling a bit as she folded her arms, watching him swallow the poor creature whole.

_It is more difficult to catch smaller beings than it is to catch larger ones. I enjoy hunting and playing with my future meal._

"If you say so," she said, then, after a moment's pause, "Have you spoken with Eragon's dragon, Saphira, much after meeting her?"

_No, I have not. She refrains from coming nearby me in fear that I shall snap her thin neck._

_Are you making fun of her now?_

_Yes._

_Because she is… smaller than you or because she is female?_

_Both. She is fearful because she is female and small for a dragon._

_I hate to point it out, but you too are a dragon, and you were smaller when you were younger. She is younger than you, if I am correct. Also, I am female, and I am not fearful._

_You are a human female, which is much different from being a dragon female._

Mariah waited for him to continue, but once she found he wasn't going to, dropped the subject all together.

_Your brother is coming to find us._ Flayme looked beyond her shoulder as the sound of crunching snow came upon them. A minute later, Marcus appeared, hugging his cloak about himself.

"Are you c-coming back home soon?" He asked, sidling closer to the dragon, who was emitting heat in nearly visible waves.

"I did not plan to, no. Why do you ask?"

"Grandfather was wondering, that is all."

"Tell him I wish to stay longer."

"He said you'd say that. And he told me to tell you that he insists you come back now."

Mariah huffed and watched her brother shrug. "Alright. I'll go back with you now then." She walked over and placed a hand on Flayme's nose, "I shall see you tomorrow."

He pressed against her hand, humming before reaching up and placing his neck over her shoulder, allowing her to hug him; she did so, minding the spikes running along his back. _I will be glad of it Mariah._

She relinquished her grip on Flayme and turned back to her brother, taking his arm and dragging him back the way he'd come.

She woke late again, not wishing to be up before the sun in winter if she could help doing so; it seemed to make the day shorter and spring come that much faster. Stumbling to the kitchen, she sat down and blinked as Mark slid a plate over to her.

"Thank you…" she mumbled, eating without much thought, staring right through Brom, who was sitting opposite her.

"Yes Mariah?"

"What?" She asked, holding her fork up to her mouth, blinking.

He smiled slightly, "You seem distracted."

"I am… just worried about Eragon, that is all."

"Worried?"

"Concerned."

"Concerned? Why?"

"I do not know why exactly, but I have this feeling…"

"Feelings can be dangerous."

"I know grandfather, but I do have a feeling. And I do not think it a pleasant one."

Mariah watched her grandfather, a distant look in his eyes.

"I shall be back by this evening, Marcus, take care of your sister." He said before standing and striding out of the room. They heard the front door clip shut, blinking at one another.

"Well, if that wasn't sudden…" Mark said, raising an eyebrow at her.

"…yeah." She said, still watching the doorway. "I wonder why he left in the middle of our conversation though…"

"Give it a rest, Mariah, you know better than to question him."

"I suppose…" She said, nodding once. _Flayme… would you follow him?_

_If you wish it._

_I do, but go stealthily._

_I shall._ Mariah felt his connection fade slightly as he stood, moving and keeping an eye on their grandfather as he went. She sighed, looking out the window, a dull thrum in her mind of Flayme's continuous connection with her thoughts.

_What is going on?_

_Nothing as of yet, Mariah, he is merely walking._

_Walking where?_ Flayme did not answer and she felt a pang of guilt just before he snapped his mind shut to her own. She blinked and sat up fully, searching with her thoughts to find him again. "Flayme?" Mariah stood and hurried to her room, pulling on her winter coat and gloves. Her fingers latched onto her sword, nimbly tying it to the belt at her waist; she hopped into her boots, palm on the door handle. As soon as she stepped fully into her footwear, she shot out the door, running after Brom's footsteps.

"Mariah?" Her brother looked from the kitchen down the hall to the closing door. "Oh, dear."

Once reaching the end of town, she instantly regretted not taking the time to saddle Aluora. She would have been faster than running on foot in the snow. Somehow, she managed to keep at a full run; whether it was from panic and adrenaline or something else she knew not. Ahead, she heard a shout. Cresting a hill, she spotted Saphira.

And Brom.

And Eragon.

Mariah let out a cry, rushing to them more urgently. Flayme swept in from the tree line, catching Brom's attention, but only momentarily. She skidded to a halt beside him and fell to her knees, looking over her friend. Eragon was bleeding profusely and barely breathing. Saphira looked worse off than he. Then she saw Garrow, almost invisible against the white snow, clearly on the brink of mortality. Her gaze swiveled to her grandfather, who was assessing the situation.

"We must get them back to Carvahall, they are in desperate need of a healer." Mariah nodded to him once, looking up at Flayme. _No one can see you. Go help Saphira, she will need looking after._

_I do not wish-_

_I do not care if you wish it or not. You must help her, she is in pain. She is my friend's dragon and I care for her. She is also a dragon, as you are. Do this, now and do not question me again._ Her eyes snapped fire at him and he dipped his head slightly before gliding over to the dragoness, helping her back to the woods.

Brom looked over at Mariah, "Help me get them up." He moved to help her lift Eragon but stopped once he saw her pulling the limp body up all on her own. She pulled his arm around her neck and took hold, pushing upward off the ground with first her knees, then her legs in their entirety. Mariah was holding his weight against her fully as she stood.

Her eyes snapped to her grandfather, "I can carry him."

"Very well," he said, taking hold of Garrow carefully, trying not to do more harm, and leading them back towards Carvahall swiftly. Mariah followed behind him, supporting Eragon's full dead weight, carrying him back.

* * *

_Gedwëy ignasia_ - In case you don't know, means _Shining Palm._


	13. Ch 12: Unwilling Departures

**Chapter Twelve: Unwilling Departures**

Mark looked between Brom and Mariah, his hands on his hips. "I won't inquire about that." He pointed to his grandfather's head wound, sighing. "But you should have told me you were following him; I could have come and helped."

"I didn't need any of your help Marcus," she snapped.

"Oh, yes, because carrying someone practically twice as heavy as you is so easy."

"I did it, didn't I?"

"Yes, but you still should have told me."

"It would have slowed me down, then what?"

"I could have helped and it would have been twice as fast carrying him back."

She mumbled under her breath at her elder sibling. The boy sighed again, looking back at their grandfather, "Do you think they'll be alright."

He huffed slightly, wiping the drying blood from his forehead, "I believe Eragon will be fine."

"…and Garrow?"

"It is more difficult to say," Brom stated. Interpreted correctly, as both brother and sister could, this meant the chances of his survival were shallower than a puddle on a hot summer day. Mariah sighed, putting her face in her hands.

"What's wrong Mariah?"

"Eragon…" she said, looking up at her brother. "He's going to be so dreadfully upset. It's going to kill him… Roran just left not a week ago and then this happens. He's going to be so terribly distressed." Without another word she stood up and walked outside, drawing up her coat and walking off to the forest. She reached out with her mind slowly and gently, calling to her dragon. _Flayme?_

_Mariah…_ he called back carefully, allowing her sight of his location.

As she picked her way through the woods, she spoke with him; _I apologize for yelling at you so earlier. I was… distraught._

_Do not worry; I am aware of your feelings. They were justified._

_Thank you,_ she said, stepping into his sights. _Where is Saphira?_

_Resting. She refuses to let me hunt for her. What she lacks in nerve, she makes up for in pride and foolishness._

_Stop accusing her so, it is rude. I'll not have a rude dragon._

He snorted, lifting his head towards the sky.

_Flayme._

_I do not wish to speak with you._

That's too bad for I can break through your walls easily enough.

The dragon turned back to her, blinking once. _How are you faring?_

_Well enough, considering. I am awfully worried however._

_I can assume you would be, yes. Humans do tend to worry often._

She hugged him around his neck and he snorted, tossing some of her black hair into the air, melting the snowflakes that had fallen into it.

_Do not worry Mariah. I am sure Eragon will be just fine. He has you looking out for him. Anyone would be fine if you were protecting them._

_Thank you Flayme,_ she said, smiling against his scales._ I dearly hope so._

* * *

Mariah couldn't wait any longer, the evening air was frigid but she stood knocking on Gertrude's door anyways. She waited a moment longer before knocking again, hoping the healer woman would answer swiftly. After another minute with no reply she turned and strode to Horst's, hoping someone there could tell her where Eragon was.

She had barely knocked when the door was opened wide for her, Elain smiling softly. "Come in dear, out of the cold before you catch death."

Mariah stepped inside, brushing snow off her as she went. "I was merely wondering where Eragon was, Gertrude was not at home."

"Oh, both of them are here," she said. "Upstairs. Eragon insisted upon coming to see how his uncle was faring."

"Thank you, may I see them?"

"Of course. After, see to it you come to the kitchen; I made pie."

"I shall." Mariah nodded, removing her cloak as she ascended the stairs. She folded the garment over her arm, spotting an open door. Moving to it, she could hear quiet voices inside. Blinking, she advanced to the room, stepping in, her breath catching in her throat.

Garrow lay peacefully on the bed. He was dressed in clean clothes, his hair had been combed back, and his face was calm. He might have been sleeping if not for the silver amulet clasped around his neck and the sprig of dried hemlock on his chest, the last gifts of the living to the dead.

Her ears caught the sound of footsteps behind her and she turned to see Eragon, crying silently. A pang of sorrow fled through her. Not a moment later she took his arm, walking him back to his room. She watched as he fell on the bed, wrapped his arms around his head, and sobbed convulsively.

She sighed, standing and watching her friend, feeling tears well upon her own cheeks. Quickly, she brushed them away.

Mariah jumped slightly when he shouted, his face turned upward, "What god would do this? Show yourself! He didn't deserve this!"

Looking behind her at the crowd of people now standing at his doorway, concerned, she gave a weak smile and motioned for them to leave. "I shall attend to this… do not worry." Elain was the last to leave, her motherly urge to comfort being persistent. "Make sure everyone else is alright… please Elain, leave this to me."

Finally the petite woman nodded and walked away down the hall. Mariah shut the door and sat down next to Eragon on the edge of the bed, wrapping her arms around him gently. He cried harder, his breath coming and going in rasps.

"Eragon…" she said gently, stroking his hair. "Eragon it's alright."

He shook his head, "N-n-no. I-it's n-not." He heaved another breath, his body trembling.

"Eragon."

She could barely hear his next words as they came out in barely a whisper, "He didn't d-des-serve t-to di-ie… I'm s-scared… n-noth-i-ng s-s-seems t-to matt-ter. N-nothing matters."

Mariah stared at him and hugged him tighter to her, "Everything matters." She said quietly, watching him shake his head. "You matter… to me Eragon. Did you hear me Eragon? You matter, to me. Eragon, to me, you are my entire world." She pressed her palm against his cheek, forcing him to look at her. Her green eyes met his blue orbs and she said it again, "You matter, to me. I love you."

He blinked his blood-shot, tear trickling eyes before kissing her and hugged her back tightly. Half a second later she could feel his muscle system collapse as he passed out from pure exhaustion.

Pushing his body down onto the bed, she watched his chest rise and fall as his breathing leveled out. "Oh Eragon… I'm so sorry…" She sat there a while, just watching him sleep. She didn't know how much time had passed, however was pulled from her reverie when a hand fell upon her shoulder. Mariah looked up to the face of her brother. "Marcus."

"Grandfather wishes you to come home, now." He said simply. She rose without a word, looking back at Eragon for a moment. "We're leaving…" Mark said quietly.

"What?" She looked back at him.

He continued in a soft voice, so as to not be overheard, "Grandfather says it's not safe for us to stay here any longer. The villagers know about a monster now, Saphira or Flayme it will matter not. We must leave: tonight. He said he will catch up to us as soon as he can."

Mariah stared at him, realizing he didn't like the notion either. Carvahall had always been their home and now they had to run from it or risk being discovered and exiled.

"Aluora can carry us both far before morning comes. No one will realize we're missing until long after tonight. Come… we must go." He said, looking at Eragon before walking from the room.

Mariah leaned down, brushing her fingers over Eragon's hair and face. "I'm sorry I must leave you… but I shall see you again. I just hope it to be soon…" She took her jeweled dagger in its embroidered sheath from her waist, a relic of her mother, and set it down on the table beside him. "Be safe Eragon." Standing again, she pulled her cloak on over her shoulders and clasped it before striding after her brother into the midnight air.

* * *

Aluora snorted heavily as Mark saddled her in silence. Mariah returned with their bags, setting down several heavier ones in the snow. Her brother tied them to the saddle and secured them before looking at her, "What are you going to do with those?"

"Flayme said he could carry some for us, since we are in a hurry and do not wish to burden the earthen-bound beast."

"He called my horse an earthen-bound beast."

"Yes." Mariah told him flatly.

He sighed and shook his head. "Then let us hurry and get these onto his saddle before he decides to eat her as well." His sister nodded and grabbed one of the three large bags, hurrying to the woods where the red-orange dragon was awaiting them. Mariah quickly laced on his saddle before helping tie down the packs.

_Did you decide to bring your entire home with you on this journey?_

_Well, we shall not be returning soon, so yes._ Mariah responded smartly.

Flayme sighed and snorted gruffly before spreading his wings and bounding into the air, soaring southward along The Spine.

"Let us hurry and leave, before it is light dear sister." She nodded and rushed after him back to the white she-horse. Mark mounted and reached down to help his sister on as well; she wrapped her arms around his waist and held tightly as he let out a sharp word, "Hlaupa."

Aluora trotted in place for half a moment before rushing off, breaking into a run, kicking up snow with her hooves as Mariah buried her face in the back of her brother's cloak, not wishing to look back at the place she once called home.

* * *

_Hlaupa - _Run


	14. Ch 13: Chasing Shadows

**Chapter Thirteen: Chasing Shadows**

The morning after their departure, Eragon had stolen away from town, not wanting Saphira to be found out. Brom had intercepted him before he could make any headway and soon joined him, somewhat unwontedly, on his quest. He helped the young rider to make a saddle for his own dragon, Saphira, and helped him on his way out of Palancar Valley. Mariah and Mark had been gone three days from Carvahall when they left.

After passing through Therinsford and gaining a pair of horses, a white stallion called Snowfire and a bay Eragon had named Cadoc, to speed their journey along they headed for Yazuac. Along the way, Brom used their spare time when they had stopped to rest to try and teach Eragon what he could of swordsmanship. Mostly it ended badly with Eragon in a foul mood and covered with bruises.

A week and a half after Aluora had carried Marcus and Mariah out of Carvahall, a fierce thunderstorm emerged between Therinsford and Yazuac. The gales battered Saphira, try as she might to stay grounded. Thankfully, by sunset, the storm had died down and they found she had not been harmed during the squall.

Finally, they passed the Ninor River into Yazuac, following the trail of the Ra'zac. However, as they rose to the center of town, Eragon gripped his bow tighter, blanching. "Gods above," he whispered.

A mountain of bodies rose above them, the corpses stiff and grimacing. Their clothes were soaked in blood, and the churned ground was stained with it. Slaughtered men lay over the women they had tried to protect, mothers still clasped their children, and lovers who had tried to shield each other rested in death's cold embrace. Black arrows stuck out of them all. Neither young nor old had been spared. But worst of all was the barbed spear that rose out of the peak of the pile, impaling the white body of a baby.

Tears blurred Eragon's vision and he tried to look away, but the dead faces held his attention. He stared at their open eyes and wondered how life could have left them so easily. _What does our existence mean when it can end like this? _A wave of hopelessness overwhelmed him.

Then, the thought of Mariah and Mark flooded over his mind. Brom had said they left before Eragon had been out of bed. He looked around the scene quickly to see if they were among the corpses.

"They either avoided passing through here or came through before the Urgals… the Ra'zac did not do this. This is Urgal work; the spear is of their make. And I do not see a dragon body lying nearby, and that would be difficult to miss."

Eragon swallowed, but felt reassured. A crow dipped out of the sky, like a black shadow, and perched on the spear. It cocked its head and greedily scrutinized the infant's corpse. "Oh no you don't," snarled Eragon as he pulled back the bowstring and released it with a twang. With a puff of feathers, the crow fell over backward, the arrow protruding from its chest. Eragon fit another arrow to the string, but nausea rose from his stomach and he threw up over Cadoc's side.

Brom patted him on the back. When Eragon was done, Brom asked gently, "Do you want to wait for me outside Yazuac?"

"No… I'll stay," said Eragon shakily, wiping his mouth. He avoided looking at the gruesome sight before them.

Brom dismounted Snowfire and walked around, inspecting the trampled ground carefully heknelt and examined a footprint intently. With a curse he ran back to Snowfire and leapt onto him.

"Ride!" he hissed tightly, spurring Snowfire forward. "There are still Urgals here!" Eragon jammed his heels into Cadoc. The horse jumped forward and raced after Snowfire. They dashed past the houses and were almost to the edge of Yazuac when Eragon's palm tingled. He saw a flicker of movement to his right, then a giant fist smashed him out of the saddle. He flew back over Cadoc and crashed into a wall, holding on to his bow only by instinct. Gasping and stunned, he staggered upright, hugging his side.

An Urgal stood over him, face set in a gross leer. The monster was tall, thick, and broader than a doorway, with gray skin and yellow piggish eyes. Muscles bulged on his arms and chest, which was covered by a too small breastplate. An iron cap rested over the pair of ram's horns curling from his temples, and a roundshield was bound to one arm. His powerful hand held a short, wicked sword.

Behind him, Eragon saw Brom rein in Snowfire and start back, only to be stopped by the appearance of a second Urgal, this one with an ax. "Run, you fool!" Brom cried to Eragon, cleaving at his enemy. The Urgal in front of Eragon roared and swung his sword mightily. Eragon jerked back with a startled yelp as the weapon whistled past his cheek. He spun around and fled toward the center of Yazuac, heart pounding wildly.

The Urgal pursued him, heavy boots thudding. Eragon sent a desperate cry for help to Saphira, then forced himself to go even faster. The Urgal rapidly gained ground despite Eragon's efforts; large fangs separated in a soundless bellow. With the Urgal almost upon him, Eragon strung an arrow, spun to a stop, took aim, and released. The Urgal snapped up his arm and caught the quivering bolt on his shield. The monster collided with Eragon before he could shoot again, and they fell to the ground in a confused tangle.

Eragon sprang to his feet and rushed back to Brom, who was trading fierce blows with his opponent from Snowfire's back. _Where are the rest of the Urgals? _Wondered Eragon frantically._ Are these two the only ones in Yazuac? _There was a loud smack, and Snowfire reared, whinnying. Brom doubled over in his saddle, blood streaming down this arm. The Urgal beside him howled in triumph and raised his ax for the death blow.

A deafening scram tore out of Eragon as he charged the Urgal, headfirst, drawing a dagger from his side. The Urgal paused in astonishment, then faced him contemptuously, swinging his ax. Eragon ducked under the two-handed blow and clawed the Urgal's side, leaving bloody furrows. The Urgal's face twisted with rage as the jeweled dagger dripped with blood. He slashed again, but missed as Eragon dived to the side and scrambled down an alley, clutching the knife tightly.

Eragon concentrated on leading the Urgals away from Brom. He slipped into a narrow passageway between two houses, saw it was a dead end, and slid to a stop. He tried to back out, but the Urgals had already blocked the entrance, he sheathed the dagger back into the embroidered scabbard at his waist, tightening his grip on his bow. They advanced, cursing him in their gravelly voices. Eragon swung his head from side to side, searching for a way out, but there was none.

As he faced the Urgals, images flashed in his mind: dead villagers piled around the spear and an innocent baby who would never grow to adulthood. At the thought of their fate, a burning, fiery power gathered from every part of his body. It was more than a desire for justice. It was his entire being rebelling against the fact of death – that he would cease to exist. The power grew stronger and stronger until he felt ready to burst from the contained force.

He stood tall and straight, all fear gone. He raised his bow smoothly. The Urgals laughed and lifted their shields. Eragon sighted down the shaft, as he had done hundreds of times, and aligned the arrowhead with his target. The energy inside him burned at an unbearable level. He had to release it, or it would consume him. A word suddenly leapt unbidden to his lips. He shot, yelling, "Brisingr!"

The arrow hissed through the air, glowing with a crackling blue light. It struck the lead Urgal on the forehead, and the air resounded with an explosion. A blue shock wave blasted out of the monster's head, killing the other Urgal instantly. It reached Eragon before he had time to react, and it passed through him without harm, dissipating against the houses.

Eragon stood panting, then looked at his icy palm. The gedwëy ignasia was glowing like white-hot metal, yet even as he watched, it faded back to normal. He clenched his fist, then a wave of exhaustion washed over him. He felt strange and feeble, as if he had not eaten for days. His knees buckled, and he sagged against a wall.

When Eragon woke, he went back to help Brom, wrapping a tourniquet around his profusely bleeding arm wound. As they rested, Eragon cautiously explained the magic that he'd performed to protect himself. After a lecture or three, Brom gave Eragon a small pebble to levitate for magic practice. As they traveled, the old man taught the young Rider words in the Ancient Language, establishing a vocabulary he could weave together to perform more detailed magic.

"How far ahead of us are Mark and Mariah?" Eragon asked after yet another lesson.

"They left a good three days ahead of us, did not have to purchase horses, did not have to bear through a storm, and were hopefully not delayed by battles or wounds," Brom said, "They have a far lead on us, and Aluora moves quite fast."

"Are we supposed to meet with them at a certain point?"

"I told them to run hard until they reached somewhere safe. And if we did not meet them on the road within a fortnight, to continue on to Dras-Leona and Belatona before running along the southern coast towards the Beor Mountains."

Eragon blinked, never really having seen a map of Alagaesia before and sighed.

"I am not worried about their safety, if that is what you are questioning," he said, looking over at Eragon. "They too have a dragon to help protect them. Both are fine with a sword and are able to perform magic without too much difficulty, you should worry about yourself first."

"Yes… alright," he nodded, not saying more on the subject as they reached Daret. There, Brom purchased a pair of gloves so Eragon could hide his gedwëy ignasia from sight.

The day after they passed through Daret, Saphira insisted that Eragon ride her. He did so, feeling elated at finally being able to do so properly with a saddle. Saphira agreed to let him ride Cadoc every other day so that he may talk with Brom and improve his knowledge, the other days riding with Saphira to get used to flying. That night, Brom taught Eragon how to dull any blade he was using so that he could practice fight with it, allowing him hold of Zar'roc – the Rider blade that Brom had from a nameless Rider from long ago - so that he might be able to practice with a real sword's full weight instead of a wooden stick.

Eragon stumbled across a flask with the Ra'zac's symbol wrought into a silver insignia. Inside the flash was a liquid – oil from the petals of the Seithr plant, which grows on a small island in the frigid northern seas. When tampered with correctly, it becomes flesh-eating. With a stroke of genius, Eragon figures out that they can track who ever bought the expensive oil and by process of elimination, find the Ra'zac. Brom suggests they start their search in Teirm, since it is the trade controlling center of the coastline, and that he might just know of someone who can help them.

After another week of travel, they finally reached a point where they could see Teirm. When evening fell, they set up camp in the driest sport they could find. As they ate, Brom commented, "You should continue to ride Cadoc until we reach Teirm. It's likely that we'll meet other travelers now that we are out of the Spine, and it will be better if you are with me. An old man traveling alone will raise suspicion. With you at my side, no one will ask questions. Besides, I don't want to show up at the city and have someone who saw me on the trail wondering where you suddenly came from."

"Will we use our own names?" asked Eragon.

Brom thought about it. "We won't be able to deceive Jeod. He already knows my name, and I think I trust him with yours. But to everyone else, I will be Neal and you will be my nephew Evan. If our tongues slip and give us away, it probably won't make a difference, but I don't want our names in anyone's heads. People have an annoying habit of remembering things they shouldn't."

* * *

_Brisinger - Fire_

_Gedwëy ignasia - Shining Palm_

Yes, this chapter IS the equivalent to a filler episode... but it's always good to know what Eragon's up to. And yes, I copied chunks (very large chunks) from Chris Paolini's _Eragon__, book one of The Inheritance Cycle_ and edited pieces a tiny bit to fit the story. Again, it's filler, so readers don't have to run over and grab their copy of _Eragon_ just to remember what happened in between points A and B. - Love, Mariah


	15. Ch 14: Eventide

**Chapter Fourteen: Eventide**

"Mark, we have to stop for the night… you're about ready to fall over." She insisted, shaking his shoulder a little as he started nodding off again. They'd been going since midnight the previous day, with no more than five breaks lasting only partial hours.

With a jerk, he sat up straighter once more before sighing, "Alright…" he mumbled, "Aluora, letta." She snorted and slowed from her canter to a complete stop, lifting her head and flicking her hair, counting as Mariah dismounted beside her brother. "Stydja… ach neo eitha frá nosu." She nuzzled his shoulder, acknowledging and promising that she would not wander too far before trotting off to find some grass to eat.

"How much farther are you planning on going?"

He looked down at his sister, "Tonight?"

"No, all together."

"If we do not cross paths with Eragon and grandfather within a fortnight, we will head for Teirm."

She nodded, "After that?"

"I need to see a map, I do not remember farther than that right now. I left my good one at home as well."

"You forgot your map," Mariah blinked at him, "You leave your home and you forget your map, really Marcus, how daft are you? What were you thinking?"

"I was thinking about getting you away as fast as possible; forgive my blindness of forgetting a map."

"The map though, of all the things…"

"Get some firewood; I'm going to hunt down something to eat." He said, going to Aluora and removing his bow and quiver from her saddle before vanishing into the forest.

Mariah sighed, trudging over and kicking at a rotting log, knocking off some of its branches. There was a loud thud behind her as Flayme landed, licking his chops. _What did you kill this time?_

_A family of very fat rabbits…_ he said happily, his teeth shining as he licked them clean. Her stomach rumbled slightly and she muttered, dragging the branches away from the trees. With his tail, the dragon cleared a patch of snow from the ground so that she had a surface on which to start her fire. _I would offer to help, however I am yet unable to breathe fire of any kind. _Ashe snorted a small puff of smoke emitting from his nostrils.

"Thanks for the sentiment," she told him, rummaging in one of the packs tied to his saddle for her tinderbox. Her fingers latched onto it and she moved back to the sticks, shredding the smaller pieces of wood into fibers and removing a piece of char cloth. She removed the flint from the box and the small steel knife from her boot, stroking the flint against her blade, Mariah created sparks which were quickly caught by the cloth. She carefully blew on the hotspot and caught flame to the fiber kindling, feeding it with steadily larger pieces until it was burning well on its own.

She stood after packing her tinderbox, going to put it back in her bag when Mark returned. His bow was sitting back in his quiver at his hip and he held a rabbit by its leg, not having removed the arrow from it yet.

"I was only able to shoot one before they started running," he said, handing the carcass over to her. She wrinkled up her nose and pulled the arrow out, giving it back to him. Mark removed his quiver from his belt and set it on the ground beside him as he sat by the fire, cleaning his bloodied arrow.

Mariah took her hunting knife out and proceeded to skin the fur from the rabbit. Her brother had since given up on dressing her food, he always seemed to miss a few tufts of fur and then it'd char and taste like burnt hair. She set aside the hide, cleaning the rest of the animal and put the meat on a sharpened stick, leaning it over the fire to cook.

"Mark?"

"Yeah?" He asked, not looking up as he tried to rub out the red stain on the wooden shaft with snow.

"Do you think we'll see them again?" She asked, "Grandfather and Eragon?"

"Knowing those two, they're getting in all kinds of trouble," he said, narrowing his eyes and raising the arrow a little to examine it, replacing it in the quiver when he was satisfied. "But I think we'll see them again, you don't have to worry."

"I'm not… worried…"

Mark smiled a little, knowingly, "We'll see them soon enough. How's Flayme like all the traveling?"

"He likes it, doesn't have to worry about being seen like back home." In response, the dragon nodded and snorted, moving closer behind Mariah and wrapping his body around both them and the fire to shield from the wind.

"Good, you know, you two should probably start flying together soon. I think being a Dragon _Rider_ requires that, yeah?" He flicked his black hair out of his eyes, "Maybe tomorrow, if you're up for it?"

_It would not be a bad idea for you to learn, besides that skinny she-horse looks tired after carrying both of you for so long today._

Mariah nodded, "Alright, in the morning though."

"Very well," Mark said, "Now… are you burning our dinner yet?"

"Of course not." She removed the meat from the flames and moved beside him to share what was remaining of the former rabbit. Mariah leaned against his shoulder and swallowed the first bit, trying not to scald her tongue. "What are we going to do now?"

"Eat and then sleep."

"You know very well what I mean brother."

He smiled, watching the flickering fire, "Just let me worry about that." He popped another chunk of meat into his mouth. After swallowing he let out a single sharp whistle, Aluora trotting back to them. "Sitja." She nickered and lay nearby him, lowering her head and resting. "Good girl…"

* * *

"No. No no no no," her eyes widened as Flayme spread his wings, teeth barred in a snicker.

"C'mon 'riah… you're a Dragon Rider, aren't you?"

"Yes, I am. The dragon says so, however I'd like to see you climb up here and give it a shot," she snapped back at him, holding onto Flayme's saddle for dear life. "Please don't let me die today, I beg you."

_If you are speaking to me, I assure you I am not about to let my Rider fall._

_Thank you._

_However, if you do not hold on tight, you will._

Her grip resolved quickly. _Alright… but slowly. Please._

The red-orange dragon lifted his head and snorted, leading her to believe he wasn't about to take it slow at all. After a long pause, feeling her tense with anticipation, Flayme shot off with his wings tucked to his side, digging his claws into the earth at the edge of the precipice and shoving off as hard as he could. They fell and she started screaming. He lashed his tail and popped open his wings, catching a draught of warm air. Her stomach flipped up into her throat as she fell back into the saddle, clenching her legs together to keep a better hold. Mariah was shaking as he beat his wings, gaining some altitude before leaning to the left and turning in the air. _Do not worry about flying, for that is my business. Yours is to hold on and ride. I will not let you fall so you may open your eyes Mariah._

She did so, cautiously. A half moment later she was half out of the saddle, disgorging her breakfast. It had narrowly missed Flayme's wing and he snorted. _Some Rider you are._

_You can't very well blame me._ Mariah told him, wiping her mouth. _I've never flown before and the sight was… is unnerving. I fear I'm going to plummet to the forest below and be impaled upon a tree._

_Again, that shall not happen, so stop worrying so much of it, please._

She blinked, looking up at his head. _You said please._

_I did not._

Mariah smiled, _Alright, you did not._

Flayme accepted her answer and twisted in the air slightly, down and then up again, snapping at a dragonfly.

Her stomach flipped again and she placed a hand over her mouth to avoid throwing up again.

_Perhaps you would not be so anxious if I showed you what I see?_

_I'm listening…_

He snorted once and pulled gently at her mind. She allowed the intrusion, trusting he knew what he was doing, and watched as the world changed colors.

It was like sunset, when the sky is all but blue and the light is casting a faint crimson-gold glow upon the entire world. Shadows elongate just before vanishing as the night sky blooms with billions of stars. The water turns to liquid brass, catching the last rays of sunlight before the moon comes to reflect upon its glassy surface. It was like entire landscape had been bathed in wine.

_Do you always see reds so vividly?_

_Always,_ he said,_ it is our nature to do so. See in the color we love most._

_Dragons, you mean._

_Yes._

_It is so very different than how I see…_

_It is._ Flayme agreed softly, _Do you not like this?_

_No, no, I do… it's just so different. I had never thought that others might see the world so differently than I… it makes me wonder if everyone sees the same red as I do, or the same green and blue…_

_But that is what makes it special, no? That it is _your_ red and_ your _blue and_ your _green._

_Yes, that is what makes it special._ After a moment's pause,_ Flayme?_

_What is it Mariah?_

_I enjoy flying with you and I am no longer afraid. _

_I am glad to hear it._

She took a deep breath and felt his movements. The way his tail shifted when he wished to turn, how he tipped his wings when he wished to change speed or direction. Every muscle movement that he performed in order to keep them airborne she detected. Finally, he relinquished his hold upon her mind and she slipped back to herself. _Thank you._

_Of course. Now, hold on tight._ He said, twisting and tucking his wings in tight to his body, plummeting towards the ground. Mariah simply gripped the saddle tighter and held with her knees, waiting for him to unfurl his wings and pull them back up safely. With a snap, they caught the air again and rose until the atmosphere fell thin. Again, he pulled his wings and dove. Now, she simply fell with him.

At last, they returned to the cliff-side. Flayme dug his claws into the dirt and stood facing Mark upon his she-horse.

"It looks like the two of you had fun."

"We did. And I'm gonna stay up here today, you lead with Aluora and we'll follow you in the air, alright?"

Mark nodded, "Sounds good to me." He said, turning the horse's reins and whispered to her, "Hlaupa." She flicked her ears and sprang forward, taking off through the forest.

* * *

_letta - stop_

_Stydja… ach neo eitha frá nosu. - Rest... do not leave from us._

_Stydja - Stay/Remain/Rest_

_Hlaupa - Run  
_


	16. Ch 15: Convalescence

**Chapter Fifteen: Convalescence**

"Ohh…" she moaned a bit, "Where am I?" Mariah winced as she tried getting up. Her face was plastered with blood and dirt, black hair matted down with leaves and mud. A sharp pain shot up her left arm as she pushed off the ground and she felt warmth flooding over her hand; looking down she saw blood gushing from a deep slash in her forearm.

She just stared for a minute before her stomach started to flip, her brain processing the blood as her own. Her blood leaving her body and it didn't look like it was going to stop any time soon. Quickly she tore at her belt, swiping from her waist and looping it around her arm, feeling light headed as she did so. Her hands were turning pale as she pulled the leather tight in a tourniquet around her left arm. Mariah sat there on the ground, wrenching the belt constantly to try and stop the bleeding. Her right hand was going white from gripping the strap so fiercely. Blood slowly started to dwindle as it finally began clotting from being given attention.

Finally she felt well enough to look around. It was then she realized Mark was nowhere to be seen. Neither was Aluora. Or Flayme. Mariah glanced back downward with a tinge of panic; her sword was gone from its sheath at her waist.

"Mark!" She didn't care who or what was nearby, she wasn't thinking about that. "Marcus!" Her only worry was finding her brother. _Flayme?_ She called, the second time was more desperate, _Flayme!_

Instead, Aluora shot through the woods just in her line of vision. She was being chased by several other horses, though unlike her, they were all carrying riders. The white she-horse whinnied loudly and bolted sideways to avoid a thicket of trees and thorn bushes, only to be met with more. Instead of stopping, she kicked off hard and jumped as far across them as she could before landing amongst them and dragging herself away from the thorns. Once Aluora freed herself she dashed off again, stumbling in her attempt to get away and falling onto her side before getting back up and hurrying off. She disappeared from view and the horse riders turned, doubling back and going around to keep chasing her.

Since he'd gotten her, Mark hadn't let anything happen to his horse. He loved her as much as he loved his sister, possibly more. He wouldn't let her out of his sight that easily.

"Mark!" She shouted again, begging that he answered, hoping he was nearby.

Nothing.

_Flayme?_ She asked, using her right arm to help get herself back onto her feet, holding onto a nearby tree for support. Her head felt absolutely empty and she didn't know which way to go. Looking around, she saw a trail of blood coming from her left. Mariah squinted a bit through the raindrops that had started back up and took a closer look at the muddied ground; it seemed like there was only one set of footprints. And since she was the only one here, they had to have been hers.

She coughed as the cold air filled her lungs. Her coughing slowly turned into choking which turned into sobs. Everything went cloudy as tears filled her eyes. She was cold, wet and alone. Flayme was nowhere to be found. Mark was missing and Aluora was being chased by what looked like bandits.

"Bandits?" Mariah blinked as the tears slipped down her cheeks. She wiped at her face with her good arm and took a careful step away from her maple sapling. "There were bandits… after Aluora." She looked at her arm again and winced at the gash, remembering the horseman that had given it to her. Ripping a strip off the bottom of her cape, Mariah laced it around her arm to staunch the bleeding, dragging the leather belt tight around it to keep it in place, buckling it.

Hurriedly, she went back the way she'd come, keeping her mind open for her dragon and her eyes open for her brother. After pushing her way through some lush pine trees, she stumbled out onto their camp site.

"Mark!" She rushed over, skidding in the mud as she went to crouch by him. Blood was flowing from his forehead out of a half circle shaped gash. "Oh, please no…" Mariah stretched out her fingers; the tips getting smeared with blood as she carefully spoke aloud, searching for the right words, "Waíse heill..." The wound slowly, painfully slowly, started to close and heal itself. It wasn't closed yet when she started feeling the drain. She was already light headed from loosing so much blood and using so much magic was wearing her out quickly.

Behind her she felt a rush of air.

_Place your hand on my scales and I shall assist you._

She looked back at Flayme and lifted her bloodied arm quickly and carefully, feeling a magic surge as his energy flowed into her own. The wound healed the rest of the way swiftly, the only signs that it had ever been there a red, soon to be white, scar mostly hidden by his hairline.

Mariah felt her legs give from beneath her, falling to the ground out of her crouch. She was shaking slightly as her power drained away from her. Flayme gazed down at her and nudged her arm gently. She let out a gasp as pain shot through the wound, reopening it.

_You have been harmed and should heal it._

_I can't…_ she whimpered lightly in her head, _I can barely think straight now. I don't even have enough energy to heal it if I wanted to..._

He lifted his head and looked off towards the south. _They took the white deer-horse._

_Aluora. They caught her?_

_Yes. _

Mariah choked and her breath caught in her throat. "No… Aluora…" She hung her head, crying some more, feeling numb. The dragon lowered his head and looked at her with a glassy eye.

_Is something still harming you?_

_No… nothing is harming me Flayme…_

_Then why are you still crying?_

She looked up at him and blinked, wiping at her eyes with her sleeve and hugging him around his snout. Flayme snorted once and released a spell of hot air. She hummed slightly as it enveloped her and took the cold away. He flicked his wing out over her and her brother, shielding them from the rain and keeping them warm.

Once she'd regained herself she turned back to her brother, shaking his shoulder. "Mark… Marcus…"

He let out an asphyxiated moan, finally coming to. Pain surged through his entire being, focusing mostly on his head where it was throbbing. When he tried to open his eyes he found nearly dried blood keeping his right shut.

Mariah cupped a handful of rain water and brushed it across his face, wiping the blood away for him.

Looking up at her, dazed, he asked, "What happened?"

Her throat seized up and she said nothing, merely helping him into a sitting position.

"Your arm!" Mark blinked, fully alert now and reached over, pulling the make-shift bandaging away from the gash. He inhaled sharply and quickly set to healing it shut. "What happened?" He looked up at Flayme who merely snorted.

"They took Aluora…"

At her statement Marcus simply stared at her for half a moment before getting to his feet and rummaging around for his sword. Unfortunately, it was nowhere to be found. The bandits had stripped Mark of his weapons after one of their horses kicked him in the head.

"What are you doing?"

"I'm going to get her."

Mariah stood up, rushing to him and grabbing his arm, "But you almost died… I thought you died…" Her tears started up again at her own words. "Please Mark… don't… they're going to kill you for sure this time." She hugged him tightly around his waist.

"We'll bring Flayme… and we'll be fine." He said, pulling her off carefully. "Which way did they go?"

She shuffled her feet.

"Mariah." He begged.

Reluctantly, she pointed southward.

"Alright, c'mon. Flayme can carry us both, right?"

_I cannot carry you and all of this. _He flicked his head towards the saddle where several of their bags were tied. Mark walked over and unfastened them, looking around and stashing them in the woods under some thick brush where they might be able to retrieve them again if they returned. Once the bags were removed Flayme flicked his tail and beat his wings once, flinging rain off of them. _I do not know how fast I shall be able to fly with both you and Mariah, though I shall try to reach the she-horse as quickly as I can._

Mariah climbed on first, showing Mark how to get up easily. He copied and sat behind her. She made sure to tie their legs in the saddle before Flayme took flight. It was difficult since Mark weighed just as much as his sister and then some. He beat his wings ferociously until he was able to lift them and after several more rapid flaps he managed to get them fully airborne.

Mark hugged his sister around her waist tightly, feeling nauseous as soon as they started flying.

"Don't get sick," she said loudly, compensating for the rushing air flowing around them and the beating of the raindrops on their faces.

He didn't dare open his mouth to respond and instead squeezed her momentarily to indicate that he'd heard her.

_Do you see her Flayme?_

_I know where they went; I shall land out of their sight so they do not see me coming. Are you sure the pony is worth all this trouble?_

_Yes._

…_alright. But just so you know I am against this._

_Very well, just make sure you get us there unnoticed._

He sighed and angled downward when they got close enough, sliding into the woods gently and letting them off his back. Mark fell off and rushed to a tree, hugging it for support before vomiting on the ground, clutching his stomach.

"…don't make fun of me for freaking out about flying for the first time anymore, kay Mark."

He coughed and spit to try and get the taste out of his mouth, wiping at his face with his sleeve. Standing up straight again he shot her a look and then nodded slowly, walking past her to go find Aluora.

_Be careful Mariah_, Flayme insisted, watching her follow her brother.

_I shall. _She promised, trotting to catch up to him.

Ahead, where the trees had been cleared, there were three cabins. Each was small, not well made. The felled trees made up the building supplies and the roofs hadn't been thatched in quite some time. There was fire flickering in the largest of the cabins and shadows cascaded over the light from time to time as someone walked across it. Outside, there were several horses tied up to the trees surrounding it. The one farthest from the others was white with a black mane of hair.

She snorted and bucked, pulling constantly at her harness. They had strapped her to the tree good and tight to make sure she wouldn't get away. Aluora brayed loudly and someone inside shouted at her to quiet down. She didn't.

Mariah heard Mark's whimper beside her, wanting nothing more than to rush over, set her free and leave. However, he evaluated the situation and stood there thinking silently.

"It would be best to wait until they went to sleep; they're less likely to catch us. Right now they could easily mount their horses and rush after us, but I don't think Aluora's gonna be able to run very fast right now."

"We do need to get out of this area quickly though…"

"I know… I don't think we'll be able to go back for our bags…"

Mariah sighed, thinking about all her clothes and books. "I can go back… it wouldn't take very long with Flayme…"

Mark looked over at her and groaned a bit, realizing his own books were in those bags as well. He turned his gaze forward again, "Fine… you go back and get our bags. Head east. We're going to head towards Teirm after this, alright? Keep an eye out for us, we'll try and make it as far as we can tonight…"

"Alright." She said, ducking back into the woods before stopping and turning around. Climbing back to him, she hugged him tightly, "Don't get hurt, please Mark."

"I'll try not to…"

"And just get Aluora and leave, it doesn't matter about the rest of our bags… or our weapons."

He hadn't even thought of that. "…alright."

"Good." She said, letting go of him and rushing back to Flayme to go retrieve their hidden luggage.

Marcus narrowed his eyes at the window, rubbing his forehead where the horse had kicked him in the head earlier. It still hurt and was mostly itching now as it healed, leaving a scar. "Damn horse…" He shifted through the woods, waiting patiently for them to fall asleep. With any luck he could loose the horses from their posts and delay the bandits some more. Mark crouched down, brushing over some rocky area, trying to find something sharp in case he'd need it, keeping one eye on the fire-lit cabin.

A few people stumbled out finally, heading off to the other two before everything fell silent. Aluora's noisemaking had finally started to quiet as she was feeling weary. When the fire had died down, he slipped forward and untied the ropes restraining the other horses, one by one as quietly as he could. Then, he moved to Aluora, trying not to spook her and startle her up again, he whispered gently, "Eka eddyr inr fricai."

Her ears flicked forward as she jolted her head towards his voice. She stomped on the ground twice, counting as he approached quietly, brushing his hand across her neck and untying her. Mark lifted himself up onto her back, moaning inwardly as he realized the saddle he'd made for her himself was missing.

He hugged her neck and whispered directions for her, "Hljödhr. Atra nosu eitha."

Aluora lifted her head and carefully trotted away from the cabins. Just before they got away from the horses, Mark shouted at the animals. They spooked and whinnied, darting off into the woods as the inhabitants of the cabins awoke, bellowing at one another and rushing outside. By the time they arrived, there was nothing to be found.

She ran through the woods with practiced ease, leaping where needed and turning to avoid areas where she could not make it through. Mark didn't need to guide her, though he did wish he had a saddle. Horse riding bareback was nothing compared to riding a Dragon bareback, but all the same he knew he was going to be sore later on.

A shadow hovered over them and Mark looked skyward. Flayme soared overhead, snorting at having found them so quickly, pleased with himself. They went until Aluora reached her limit. She was breathing heavily and wheezing, but no matter how hard Mark had tried to stop her before then, she had resisted.

"You got her," Mariah commented, jumping down off the Dragon's back.

"Yeah…" he said, brushing her coat and pulling leaves from her mane. "Did you see any water nearby?" His sister nodded, leading the way to a half frozen stream, filling up their water pouches as Aluora filled her empty stomach. Once she was finished, they walked back to where Flayme had decided to curl up and rest. She lowered herself to the ground and promptly fell asleep.

Mark smiled, stroking her neck as he sat down next to her. She snorted a bit and set her head in his lap.

"She's like a dog."

"A really big dog," he agreed, nodding and leaning back on his left arm as he caressed the she-horse.

Mariah smiled at him and curled up against Flayme's side. "When do you suppose we'll make it into Teirm?"

"We'll go south from here and then head west. It's over the mountains so it'll take a few days…"

"Alright."

"And once there we'll find Jeod. I'm sure that's where grandfather will go. If they've been through there already, we'll ask where they've gone. If not, we'll wait."

"How long are we going to wait?"

He bit his lip, thinking. "We were ahead of them by a few days at least, though our traveling was faster, so more likely we headed them by a week or more. We'll wait a fortnight before we go south to Belatona."

"Alright… that sounds good to me."

"And if they're just arriving in Teirm, we'll more than likely meet them on the road, so that'll give us a few more days as well to meet up with them."

"Of course," she nodded.

"Well… we should probably get some sleep."

"It's been a long day."

"Are you sure you've no more wounds?"

"Positive."

"Alright."

"Good night Mark."

"Good night Mariah…"

Flayme snorted as he curled up to sleep. She smiled at him, _Night Flayme. I love you. _

He nuzzled her gently with his nose, _Good night my love._

* * *

_Waíse heill... - Be healed..._

_Eka eddyr inr fricai. - I am your friend.  
_

_Hljödhr. Atra nosu eitha. -Silent. Let us leave._

It'll probably be a few days until I can update. I have some major papers to do, a project and exams. I'll update as much as I can during Winter Break, which starts on the 12th for me. I know, that's almost two weeks isn't it? Goodness. I'll see what I can do.

With Love,

Mariah


	17. Ch 16: Dancing Vagabonds

**Chapter S****ixteen: Dancing Vagabonds**

"I don't know, you think it's a good idea?"

"They're right in the way; we're going to have to pass by them anyway. We might as well try and get on their good side. If we have to stop for any reason I'd rather they already knew us than repeating last week…"

Mark sighed a bit, inwardly admitting his sister was probably right. "Flayme is gonna have to stay out of sight for the rest of the time though."

Mariah was silent for a few moments. "He agrees, reluctantly. Flayme thinks it's safer if we travel with them."

"Alright." He nodded, taking Aluora's reins and leading her out of the woods into plain view of the caravan.

Their three carriages were highly ornate, though weather worn. As soon as the siblings stepped from the shade of the trees, they were swarmed by a small group of children. Mariah blinked, not knowing where they had come from. They all had dark olive-colored skin and dark hair.

"Azraa! Fadil! Maher! Come here!" The children rushed back to an elegant woman in a dress. She wore an ornamental headband with jewels dangling from the gold lacing. Three of the kids hid behind her skirts, the rest scattering about towards the rest of the adults. She eyed the pair of them with distaste, "And who are you?"

Mariah blinked, "Ah… we're travelers. My name is Mariah. This is my brother, Marcus. We're headed for Teirm."

"You seem young to be traveling alone without weapons of any sort. A dagger I'm afraid is nothing to ward off thieves with."

"We are well aware," Mark said, nodding. "Most of our supplies were stolen mere days ago. We barely managed to escape with our lives."

"And at least you still have your horse." She nodded, her aura becoming less hostile. "Kyan?" A man stepped from the back of the coach.

"Yes, Jenna?"

"These young people are headed for Teirm. Might they accompany us?"

He looked over at them. "I don't see why not. If you're asking, you must trust them."

Jenna looked over at them, "If you would like, you can ride with us to Teirm. We can share what we have with you, including protection. You are less likely to be attacked in a larger group."

"Thank you. We really appreciate it." Mariah said, nodding.

"Now come over here darling, you look like you could use something to eat." She motioned them over and reached into her satchel, drawing out and apple, handing it over. "I am Jenna, by the way. And my husband, Kyan. My children, Azraa, Fadil and Maher."

Mariah bit into the apple, trying her best to be quiet about it and not wolf it down. She couldn't remember the last time she'd tasted anything but meat and wild herbs. "Are you gypsies?" She asked, forcing herself to slow down and chew on her apple.

She laughed, "Yes, in a way. We are merchants and some might say gypsies, though we do not steal."

"Are you performers then?" Mark asked, having taken his time and drawn a knife to cut pieces of his apple apart as he ate it.

"We do perform yes," she nodded, "Though mostly for ourselves. Others watch and are entertained and give us money, so I would call it performing."

"And I take it you're headed for Teirm as well?"

"We are, to visit friends and resupply before heading south again." She nodded, looking back as Kyan shouted to the rest of the caravan. "If your horse is tired, you may ride and give her a rest."

"Thank you for the offer, but I always feel safer in a saddle," Mark told her, mounting Aluora.

Mariah looked back at Jenna, "I wouldn't mind riding with you."

She nodded and stepped into the back of the carriage, her three children already seated. Mariah fed her apple core to Aluora before following. She sat across from Jenna and smiled at the kids. Azraa blinked her large brown eyes up at her and giggled. "You'd be pretty if your hair wasn't all tangled up."

"Azraa," her mother scolded.

"It's quite alright," Mariah insisted, smiling at Jenna. "I haven't had a good chance to get it cleaned up yet."

"I can fix it!"

She blinked and chuckled a bit. "You can if you'd like to I suppose. Here." Mariah took out the tie and started unbraiding her hair, sitting on the floor of the carriage as it moved. The little girl started taking out the bits of leaves and twigs from her hair, meticulously cleaning it out as they rode. She talked to the boys who were more interested in hearing about her traveling than her hair, their mother looking relieved at having calmed them down for any length of time.

In the evening they stopped. Mariah stepped from the carriage and looked up at Mark. He raised an eyebrow at her, the white scar in his hairline receding as he did so. "What happened in there?"

"I think it looks better now."

"It does," he smirked. "Your hair looked like a bird's nest a few hours ago."

"You're horrible. Stop it."

After camp was set up, they all sat around the fires, the children scurrying around playing some form of tag and hide-and-seek. "We'll follow the Toark river to Teirm. It flows right into the sea. This side flows to Leona Lake from the top of the mountain where Woadark Lake is. The other side flows from there to the sea." Kyan said, handing Mark a bowl of thin soup.

"So how far are we from Teirm?"

"About three days ride from the top of the mountain, which is three days ride from here."

"I'm glad. It means we'll have a chance to rest soon, finally."

"Where are you coming from?"

"North, far north."

"Daret?"

"Farther."

"Therinsford?"

"A few days ride past there."

"I have never been so far north."

"It's cut off from the rest of the world it seems, yes." Mark nodded, eating his soup. "Though I will be happy to go back."

"It is always good to return home," Jenna said, smiling.

Mariah finished her food and set down her bowl.

"Ah, Mareeah, dance with me!" Azraa squealed, realizing she was done.

"What?"

"Dance!" She took hold of her arm and pulled, trying to get her up. Mariah blinked and stood, following her over to where some of the gypsies were playing instruments and singing. Azraa tossed a silky scarf at her and told her to wind it over her shoulders.

Soon enough Mariah was twirling in circles, fluttering the scarf around with her as she danced to the music. She had to take off her boots, which was hindering her rapid movement. Fadil, the eleven year old boy, came over and danced with her once she'd gotten the hang of it. Finally, the fire started dying down and the music faded as the caravan started to fall asleep. The children were exhausted and passed out quickly against their parents, who were soon to follow.

Mariah went over to Mark and sat beside him, curling up against his shoulder and falling asleep as he stayed up to keep guard. He hugged his little sister to him as he sat there; admiring the work the gypsy girl had done on her hair while he waited for the sun to rise.

Three days later, they had crested the mountains and could feel the air change. The countryside became green from all the warm ocean air. Mariah was grateful that that the snow wasn't so abundant on this side of the Spine.

After another three days, they were approaching Teirm. A heavy fog clung to the ground, obscuring the view until a breeze from the west blew the mist away. Nestled by the edge of the shimmering sea, where proud ships were docked with furled sails, sat Teirm. The surf's dull thunder could be heard in the distance.

The city was contained behind a white wall – a hundred feet tall and thirty feet thick – with rows of rectangular arrow slits lining it and a walkway on top for soldiers and watchmen. The wall's smooth surgace was broken by two iron portcullises, one facing the western sea, the other opening south to the road. Above the wall – and set against its northeast section – rose a huge citadel build of giant stones and turrets. In the highest tower, a lighthouse lantern gleamed brilliantly. The castle was the only thing visible over the fortifications.

As they approached, Mariah could make out a yellow pennant bearing the outline of a roaring lion and an arm holding a lily blossom waving over the entrance. As they neared the guards stood straighter, holding their pikes more firmly, and blocked the gate with their weapons. "What is your business here?"

"We are a merchant caravan, selling wares and visiting old friends."

"Gypsies… you'd best not cause trouble, understand?" The guard looked over the group. "And you." He motioned to Mark. "You're not a part of this group."

"No. I am not." He said. "I am Finnick, and I'm traveling with my sister Serah to meet our uncle."

"Sister?"

Mariah poked her head out from the carriage and dropped down onto the road, blinking at the guards.

"Very well. Move along then. And don't be causing any trouble, any of you." They stepped aside, lowering their weapons as they moved inside the gates.

The houses were grim and foreboding. Small, deep windows let in only sparse rays of light. Narrow doors were recessed into the buildings. The tops of the roofs were flat – except for metal railings – and all were covered with slate shingles. Mark noted that the houses closest to Teirm's outer wall were no more than one story, but the buildings got progressively higher as they went in. Those next to the citadel were tallest of all, though insignificant compared to the fortress.

"It's like they're ready for war. All the time…"

"Teirm's a natural target for pirates and other enemies. It's one of the largest trading centers in the country and has lots of importing and exporting through the docks." Mark said to his sister, walking alongside her now. "The city is planned out for protection. Archers can stay at the top, killing, while soldiers bar the gates to each level as it's taken by enemies. It's built for war."

"You are meeting someone here then?" Jenna asked, walking over to them.

"Yes," Mariah nodded.

"I wish you luck on all your travels." She said, grasping the girl's hands.

"Thank you Jenna, you as well."

"Take care now." She said, stepping back to her family. Azraa waved as Mariah and Mark headed off through Teirm to try and find Jeod.


	18. Ch 17: Domia abr Wyrda

**Chapter Seventeen: _Domia abr Wyrda_**

"Thank you for the directions. Have a nice day." Mariah said, smiling and returning to Mark and Aluora, pocketing the fruit she'd bought from the woman at the market. She handed her brother a pear and drew her hood up over her head to block the wind. "She said Jeod lives on the west side of town. Next door to the herbalist's shop, a woman, named Angela owns it."

"Good," he said, pretending to look at her while he kept an eye out. There were several men and women walking around the streets with weapons, most of whom appeared willing to murder for a handful of crowns. "Let's get moving then." Mark said, taking Aluora's reins and heading towards the sea. Progressively, the buildings became nicer, more up-kept, making him feel slightly relieved. Brom had told him a little about Jeod, however, he was still worried about Mariah being somewhere dangerous. Here, the houses were clean, ornate and large. Though the people here would likely attract more brigands, with their expensive finery and authorative walk, they were also more likely to be guards of Teirm who knew how to fight, or at least family of guards. He felt safer here than he had near the gates.

"Mark, can we stop for some clothes first? I don't want to look like beggars when we show up at his home…" Mariah said. "Grandfather would be displeased."

He sighed a bit and looked down at her. "Fine… one new set of clothes. That's all, and nothing expensive."

She smiled, "Alright then."

Mark tied Aluora to the posts outside the shop securely; muttering a spell to make sure it wouldn't come loose. She nickered quietly and watched them leave her sight. Mariah trotted ahead of him and nosed through the clothing in the shop.

_You are wasting time on new clothing?_

_Yes, I am. I like clothes. _

_Are the ones you have not well enough?_

_Flayme. The clothes we brought with us are all torn and worn out now. This was the nicest set I had left and they are now ragged. _

_I still think it is a waste of energy._

_You are just bitter I am leaving you in the mountains while I am in town. _

The dragon was silent and she smirked to herself. _Very well, at least allow me to help you select what to wear._

_If you insist,_ Mariah smiled and allowed him access to her vision, looking over clothing. He turned his nose up at every single article, unless it was red. _You cannot be so stubborn._

_I think you look best in red._

_Of course you do. I'm getting this, so don't complain anymore._

_I do not like it. _He insisted.

She sighed, _Alright. I'll find something in red._ Mariah picked a red and white dress.

"Is that a good idea?" Mark asked her, looking at the dress. "I don't know how long we'll be here, but when we travel again, you're not going to want a dress."

Mariah blinked at her brother, "You're right." She doubled back and picked up the green tunic and tan leggings. Flayme mentioned his distaste once more in her head._ You are just going to have to like it_.

"Anything I can do to help?"

She turned to look at the shop owner, smiling. "Ah… I was just curious if by chance you had something similar to this in red? It's not that I don't like it, I just… look better in red."

The woman smiled at her, "You are looking to impress a gentleman then lass. I understand."

"Ah… yes." Mariah told her. _Close enough. More like an annoying, overgrown lizard._

_At least you are getting something red._

"How do you like this then?" The woman offered a dressier red tunic. Mariah cringed inwardly, knowing the price just tripled before her eyes.

"Thank you, we'll take it." Mark said, nodding to her, setting a hand on his sister's shoulder. The woman beamed, taking his money and handing the clothing over to Mariah before walking off to tend to her other customers. "We need to get moving before it gets dark…"

"Thanks Mark…" she mumbled.

They went back outside and slipped down an alley, Mark glanced around and put up an invisibility ward. "Change, quickly." He insisted, keeping watch as she did so. When she'd finished, he did the same, sliding the black tunic over his head and buckling his belt back over his hips, tightening his sword sheath once again. "Alright… now, let's get to Jeod's, please."

Mariah nodded and walked back out onto the street with her brother, finding the sign for the herbalists' shop. It had a cheery sign and was easy to find. A short, curly-haired woman sat by the door. She was holding a frog in one hand and writing with the other. Mariah assumed she was Angela.

"Excuse me, are you Angela?"

"Yes." She said, not looking up from her scribbles.

"Could you please tell us which house on either side of your shop belongs to Jeod?"

"The right side darling and you are the second person to ask me that today." She insisted, looking up at the girl.

Mariah blinked and then brightened, "Truly? Was the other person by chance an elderly man or a young, blond boy?"

"Yes." She said simply.

"Which or both?" Mariah asked, smiling.

"Both."

"Thank you, so much. Have a good evening, with your frog…"

"It IS a frog! Not a toad, a frog I tell you. Toads don't exist!" Angela insisted.

Mark blinked and took his sister's hand, walking them to the house on the right. They stopped before a door with a wrought-iron knocker and marble doorstep. Mark banged on the door. No one answered. He sighed and knocked again. No one answered. Just when he was about to knock for a third time, they heard someone running for the door. A young woman with a pale complexion and light blond hair cracked it open. "Oh goodness, I thought you were someone else. What do you want?"

Mariah's mouth opened slightly but was unable to form words.

"Is this Jeod's home and were you by chance expecting an old man, a blond boy or Jeod himself?"

"Y-yes," she stammered. "Jeod is my husband."

"We are the old man's grandchildren and are supposed to be meeting him here."

"Well he's not here at the moment."

Mariah finally found her voice, cutting off her brother who was starting to get snippy. "Please miss, we're very tired and have traveled a long way. Could we wait for them here?"

She sighed a bit and nodded, opening the door fully. "You can put your horse in the stables." Mark went to do so quickly, returning a minute later. "My name is Helen."

"I'm Mariah… and my brother, Mark."

"Sit down, go on." She motioned for them to take seats on the chairs or couches as she went to get them something to eat. "Tea?"

"Oh, thank you." Mariah said, curling up with the teacup and sipping at it gratefully.

"I'm assuming then that you don't know when Jeod will be back?" Mark asked.

"I thought he'd be home sooner, but he isn't, he's been gone for hours now with those two."

"Alright, thank you for letting us in."

"Didn't have much of a choice there, did I?"

Mark smiled at her. "All the same, we appreciate it."

Helen nodded, taking the tea service away when they'd all finished. "I have a few things to do yet tonight. You can wait here for them to come back."

"Thank you." Mariah said, smiling at her. After a while, she curled up on the couch, just staring at the fire.

"Mariah, get some rest… I'll wake you if they come."

"Oh… Mark…"

"Go on… it's alright. I promise."

_If you do not sleep, you will be more tired later. Rest now and I will see you soon love. Good dreams._

_Good night Flayme, be safe._

_I shall._

She yawned and nodded a bit, humming before falling asleep. Mark watched her for a few moments before standing and picking up a book off the shelf; returning to his chair and popping it open, reading it as he waited several silent hours.

The front door opened. "-quite alright on his own?"

"I'm not worried about him at the moment. She'll protect him."

"Very well then, let's go to my study, we can talk there. Helen-"

Mark looked up from the book as the talking stopped. Brom stared back at him. He snapped the covers together, set the book down on the table carefully as he stood, walking over to them. "You made it. Faster than us it seems."

"So it seems." Brom said, looking him over, his eyes traced up to the white scar above the boy's left eye.

"Mariah's handiwork. She had a little help."

"It's quite good."

"We needed the practice. Where's the boy?"

"Out."

"Ah, right." He nodded. "Hope he doesn't get lost, she's going to be upset."

Brom walked past Mark and looked over Mariah as she slept on the couch. He brushed back her hair gently and sighed a little, relieved at seeing her safe. "Don't wake her. She needs to rest."

Mark nodded. "So, you were headed for the study?"

"Yes," Jeod said, looking at the boy. "I'm Jeod."

"Mark. Or Finnick. Up to you."

"Ah, I see."

"Neal and Evan," Brom mentioned to him as he followed Jeod down the hall.

"Mariah is Serah…"

"Very well. How was your traveling?"

"Violent, clearly," Mark said, shutting the door behind them as they entered the study. Books covered the room's walls. But unlike those in Jeod's office at the castle, these came in every size and shape. A fireplace filled with blazing logs warmed the room. Brom and Jeod sat before an oval writing desk. Mark silently insisted standing behind his grandfather while skimming through the books. "We got lost a few times in the woods and took extra time to let Mariah learn with him a little." He didn't know how safe it was to say anything about dragons in Jeod's presence or in this room. "We lost several more days when the bandits robbed us blind in the middle of the night. Took Aluora, gave me this." He motioned to his head. "I had to retrieve her… we rested a while and came into town today with a band of gypsies. The caravan took longer to arrive than we would have alone, however there was no avoiding them and it was safer to travel with than against them."

Brom nodded silently and looked at Jeod. "My grandson, in case you haven't figured it out yet."

"Don't call me old, old man."

Brom may have smirked, but instead drew his pipe and lit it, puffing smoke rings in different colors. They started discussing and Mark listened with one ear, popping open different books from time to time when he found one interesting.

It was getting dark out and Mark noticed Brom beginning to fidget a little.

"Hope he didn't get locked behind the gates." Jeod said, shaking his head.

"Knowing him, he probably did." Mark said, chuckling a bit, shelving another book before glancing over his shoulder as the door opened.

Brom raised his pipe and said in a jovial voice, "Ah, here you are. We were getting worried about you. How was your walk?"

"Pleasant, but the guards almost locked me outside the city. And Teirm is big. I had trouble finding this house." Eragon said.

Jeod chuckled, "When you have seen Dras-Leona, Gil'ead, or even Kuasta, you won't be so easily impressed by this small ocean city. I like it here, though. When it's not raining, Teirm is really quite beautiful."

Eragon turned to Brom. "Do you have any idea how long we'll be here?"

Brom spread his palms upward. "That's hard to tell. It depends on whether we can get to the records and how long it will take us to find what we need. We'll all have to help; it will be a huge job. I'll talk with Brand tomorrow and see if he'll let us examine the records."

"I don't think I'll be able to help," Eragon said, shifting uneasily.

"Why not?" asked Brom. "There will be plenty of work for you."

Eragon lowered his head. Mark rolled his eyes a bit, knowing what was coming next. "I can't read."

Brom straightened in disbelief. "You mean Garrow never taught you?"

"He knew how to read?" asked Eragon, puzzled. Jeod watched them with interest.

"Of course he did," snorted Brom. "The proud fool – what was he thinking? I should have realized that he wouldn't have taught you. He probably considered it an unnecessary luxury." Brom scowled and pulled at his beard angrily. "This sets my plans back, but not irreparably. I'll just have to teach you how to read. It won't take long if you put your mind to it."

Eragon winced. Brom's lessons were usually intense and brutally direct. "I suppose it's necessary," he said ruefully.

"You'll enjoy it. There is much you can learn from books and scrolls," said Jeod. He gestured at the walls. "These books are my friends, my companions. They make me laugh and cry and find meaning in life."

"It sounds intriguing," admitted Eragon.

"Always the scholar, aren't you?" asked Brom.

Jeod shrugged. "Not anymore. I'm afraid I've degenerated into a bibliophile."

"A what?" asked Eragon.

"One who loves books," explained Jeod, and resumed conversing with Brom. Bored, Eragon began scanning the shelves. It was then he noticed Mark.

"Mark!"

"What?" He asked lazily, his eyes continuing their skimming through the highly ornate book he'd picked up earlier. _Domia abr Wyrda_ Brom had called it, the _Dominance of Fate_. "What do you want Eragon?"

"You're here," he sounded a little stunned.

"And so are you, what's your point?"

"Where's Mariah?"

"Asleep. You should know better than to wake-" he blinked as he looked up, seeing the door closing, "-her…"


	19. Ch 18: Smoldering Embers

**Chapter Eighteen: Smoldering Embers**

He got lost in the hallway, looking at the many doors in Jeod's house. Eragon spun around once before deciding to back up and methodically open doors. If it was locked he passed by it, eventually finding the sitting room near the front door. The fire was dying now, just smoldering embers, smoke not knowing whether to go up the chimney or come out into the room. A tea cup on the table was empty. The book Mark had been reading earlier before Brom arrived lay on the table nearby, looking lonely away from its shelf. Eragon wove through the room quietly, avoiding any other stacks of books on the floor and around one of the large arm chairs. On the couch, a cloak moved slightly, followed by a deep inhale.

"Mariah?" He paused for a moment but got no response. Instead, Eragon slipped over to the couch and sat down on the edge, trying to figure out what to do. He didn't want to wake her, but he didn't feel like waiting until morning to talk to her either, not since he hadn't in at least a month. "Mariaah?" He asked again a little louder. She twisted a bit, getting more comfortable, nosing her face against the back of the couch as the cloak fell slightly. "Hey… Mariah." Reaching over, Eragon brushed her hair from her face and behind her ear, "Wake up." She did nothing but hum slightly. He sighed, deflating. Maybe it would just be better to wait until morning. After sitting in silence for a moment he said her name once more, shaking her shoulder slightly, "Mariah."

She moaned and writhed away from his shaking. "Stop it…" She mumbled, not wanting to get up quite yet.

Eragon huffed, "Well then forget it now. I'll talk to you in the morning."

"It's not morning… stop it."

He blinked at her, "Are you awake?"

"Not… mornin' yet…" she exhaled heavily, curling up tighter.

Eragon realized she was talking in her sleep. Hoping she was halfway to waking up, he continued talking. "Mariah, wake up. C'mon. Sleeping this much can't be good for you." He jumped when something smacked on the floor loudly. Like a thunder clap without the rain.

"What?" She jerked.

"Whoops." Mark said, picking up the heavy book again, straightening as he did so, and walking to his room the butler had shown him, clearly hiding a smirk.

Her breathing hitched as adrenaline rushed through her body, startling her awake. "Mark!" She shouted, twisting and looking around, ready to throw something at him, even if it was only a pillow. Whipping it around, she smacked him in the face, blinking when she realized it wasn't her brother.

"Owch…" He rubbed his cheek and shoved the pillow back at her. "Would you mind not hurting me please? I've had enough of that recently."

"Eragon… you… you're alive."

"Really?" He asked, looking at her. "I wouldn't have guessed."

"Stop that," she said, smacking him. "You know what I mean."

"Again with the hitting, stop it." He insisted, smiling all the same. "And yes, we made it… so did you it seems."

Mariah sat up better, pulling her legs underneath her as she looked him over. "You… look a lot different than the last time I saw you." Her mind flashed back to him laying half dead in a bed back in Carvahall. She blushed a bit at the memory, mostly wanting to figure out if he remembered any of it. "Are… are your legs better?" She asked, covering for herself, rubbing at her face a bit to conceal the blush.

"Ah, yeah. No more riding bareback." Eragon said, grinning.

"Good, you got a saddle then…"

"And a horse," he nodded. "We stopped in Therinsford."

"Ah, of course. You would have had to in order to make any good time. You made it safely then?"

"Of course."

"…no trouble?"

"None."

"Liar."

"Well, we did stop in Yazuac, sort of… and there were Urgals." Mariah raised her eyebrows at him. "And we kind of got into a fight with them…"

"You fought Urgals and survived it?" She asked, stunned.

"Yeah… oh. That reminds me, this is yours, right? I used it against them; I think it probably saved me." He said, drawing the jeweled dagger from his belt.

"Ah, no… you keep it. It was a gift." She insisted. "If it was useful to you, I want you to keep it. You might need it again." Mariah said, reaching over and closing his fingers back around the hilt gently. She pulled her hands back, setting them in her lap.

He blinked at her for a moment, putting the dagger back in its sheath. "You must have run into trouble." Eragon said, motioning to her arm. "That scar's new."

"Ah…" she put her palm over her left forearm. "Mark healed it pretty well though; you can't really tell it's there… I'm surprised you noticed. I'd forgotten about it already."

"What happened?"

"Bandits… attacked us and stole Aluora."

"You lost Aluora?"

"No… no… Mark got her back."

"From bandits?"

"Yeah…"

"Mariah."

"We waited until it was dark and then Mark stole her back, we got away after that safely… that was about two weeks ago now."

"Are you two insane?"

"Only sometimes. You however? Always."

"I'm insane?"

"Yes."

"…you're the one stealing from bandits."

"You're the one fighting Urgals." She said. "I'm glad you're safe by the way. I was… really worried."

"Why?"

"Because you don't know how to use a sword or anything and you sometimes miss with your bow."

He smirked. "Brom's been training me while we've been traveling. I know more than you think now."

Mariah looked at him. She'd noticed it before, how he seemed less scrawny and more toned than he had back home. There wasn't really any other way to put it. His skin tone was a little more tanned since he'd been out in the sun so much from traveling although it might have just been the dirt. "Your hair's a lot longer now."

"You haven't seen me in a month and you're talking about my hair."

"Yes."

"You're impossible sometimes."

"What? You need a haircut. I'll fix it for you if you'd like."

"You with a dagger near my head? No thanks, I'll take my chances doing it myself."

"You'll slip and cut off your ear."

"I would not."

"You would too, clumsy… I'll cut it for you tomorrow. How long are we staying? Did Brom say?"

"No… but a while. We have to get some information from the castle about the Ra'zac."

"Information?"

"About the Ra'zac, yes. They had Seithr oil in a flask I found. And I imagine that there's a record from when they bought it somewhere. Jeod said it'd be at the castle."

"Ah, alright then." She nodded, "Eragon?"

"Yes?"

"You're tired."

"I am not."

"Yes, you are…" she said, looking at him. "You need to sleep. Now that we're all together again, we won't be separated any time soon. I'll see you in the morning; you don't have to worry about it."

"I wasn't."

"Alright."

"I did miss you. I was wondering if I'd ever get to see you again."

"Me too…" she admitted.

They sat in silence for a while. She couldn't bring herself to ask what he remembered from the last time they'd been in each others company, although since he hadn't said anything, she assumed he remembered nothing. It had been a traumatic few days and she was sure it had been suppressed in his memory. She didn't blame him either, knowing if the situation had been reversed she would have done the same. Mariah looked back at him finally, hearing someone clear their throat from the hallway.

"Isn't it about time for everyone to get some sleep?" Brom asked.

"Ah… yes." Mariah nodded, getting up and brushing past Eragon to go to her grandfather. She hugged him. "I'm glad you made it safely."

"Did you doubt me?"

"Never," she lied, smiling up at him.

He shook his head, knowing better. Jeod stood nearby them, "The butler will show you to your rooms."

On their way upstairs, the servant said, "If you need assistance, use the bellpull next to the bed." He stopped before a cluster of doors, bowed, then backed away.

"Mariah, come here for a moment will you?" Helen called from down the hall.

"Oh. Coming." She insisted, looking at Brom as he entered a room. Mariah glanced over at Eragon, smiling a bit. "Night."

"Good night Mariah…" he said, standing in the hallway as she went to find Helen before moving to talk to Brom.

"I think I might have found you a nightgown that will fit…" Helen said, digging through her clothing.

"Oh. This is unnecessary. Thank you so much, but-"

"Nonsense I'll not have you wearing your good clothes to bed." Mariah smiled a bit and took the clothing without further argument. "Good night."

"Thank you Helen." She said, nodding and going to her room, closing and locking the door before changing and crawling into the bed, relieved at having an actual bed to sleep in for the first time in a long while.

_Everything is right again._

_It is,_ she said, smiling at the darkness surrounding her. _You found Saphira then?_

_Indeed._

_After a month without her, she doesn't seem so bad, does she?_

_No, she is not. She is much worse than I recall. I wish once more to be rid of her._

_Stop teasing and be nice. I'll visit you tomorrow, until then she is your only company._

_Good night my little one._

_Night Flayme._

* * *

__I'm trying to do a chapter a day now, since I'm on break and not doing anything else. It's 11:00 pm where I am. Has been, at least, the past few days when I've uploaded. I hope everyone likes the new chapters. I'm really trying hard to get this moving. Once I get into more exciting stuff I think I'll want to upload more. We'll see. For now. Good day. I hope you're having a happy holiday season.

With love, as always, Mariah


	20. Ch 19: Concerning A Werecat

**Chapter Nineteen: Concerning A Werecat**

It was late in the morning when Eragon woke. He dressed, washed his face in the basin, then held the mirror up and brushed his hair into place. Mariah was right; it was getting a bit long. Something about his reflection made him stop and look closer. His face had changed since he had run out of Carvahall. Earlier, he'd brushed away her mention of him looking different however, now that he looked closer, he could see it too. Any baby fat was gone now, stripped away by traveling, sparring, and training. His cheek-bones were more prominent, and the line of his jaw was sharper. There was a slight cast to his eyes that, when he looked closely, gave his face a wild, alien appearance. He held the mirror at arm's length, and his face resumed its normal semblance – but it still did not seem quite his own.

A little disturbed, he slung his bow and quiver across his back, then left the room. Before he had reached the end of the hall, the butler caught up with him and said, "Sir, Neal left with my master for the castle earlier. He said that you could do whatever you want to day because he will not return until this evening."

Eragon thanked him for the message and looked around the house, listening to see if anyone else was up. He didn't hear anything and started poking his head into different rooms, not seeing anyone else either. Sighing, he gave up looking and starting thinking about what to do the rest of the day.

"What are you up to?"

"Oh, nothing," he admitted, looking up at Mariah.

She blinked at him, "You look… off, something wrong?"

"No. I just don't have anything to do today."

"My brother left earlier too. Oh. Hey, how about that hair cut?"

"Ah… later. Do you want to go explore the city since they won't be back until tonight?"

"Sure, morning by the way." She said, going and pulling on her boots.

He waited for her before they headed out, eagerly exploring Teirm. For hours they wandered the streets, entering every shop that struck their fancy and chatting with various people. Eventually, they were forced back to Jeod's by their empty stomachs and lack of money.

"Did you talk to the woman with the frog yesterday?"

"Yes. I'm kinda wondering what she's doing with a shop here with all the houses instead of in the city."

Mariah nodded, "You wanna go look around?"

He shrugged, "I am curious."

At first they saw nothing because the store was so dark, but then their eyes adjusted to the faint greenish light that filtered through the windows. A colorful bird with wide tail feathers and a sharp, powerful beak looked at Eragon inquisitively from a cage near the window.

"He's pretty…" Mariah said, examining him from across the room. The walls were covered with plants; vines clung to the ceiling, obscuring all but an old chandelier, and on the floor was a large pot with a yellow flower. A collection of mortars, pestles, metal bowls, and a clear crystal ball the size of Eragon's head rested on a long counter.

They walked over, carefully stepping around complex machines, crates of rocks, piles of scrolls, and other objects neither of them recognized. The wall behind the counter was covered with drawers of every size. Some of them were no larger than his smallest finger, while others were big enough for a barrel. There was a foot-wide gap in the shelves far above.

A pair of red eyes suddenly flashed from the dark space, and a large, fierce cat leapt onto the counter. It had a lean body with powerful shoulders and oversized paws. A shaggy mane surrounded its angular face; its ears were tipped with black tufts. White fangs curved down over its jaw. Altogether, it did not look like any cat either of them had ever seen. It inspected them with shrewd eyes, then flicked its tail dismissively.

On a whim, Eragon reached out with his mind and touched the cat's consciousness. Gently, he prodded it with his thoughts, trying to make it understand that he was a friend.

_You don't have to do that._

Eragon looked around in alarm and over at Mariah.

"What?" She asked, reaching over to pet the cat.

The cat ignored them and licked a paw. _Saphira? Where are you? _He asked. No one answered. Puzzled, he leaned against the counter and reached for what looked like a wood rod.

"Eragon, what are you doing?" Mariah asked him, watching the boy.

_That wouldn't be wise._

_Stop playing games, Saphira, _he snapped, then picked up the rod. A shock of electricity exploded through his body, and he fell to the floor, writhing. The pain slowly faded, leaving him gasping for air. The cat jumped down and looked at him.

"Eragon!"

_You aren't very smart for a Dragon Rider. I did warn you._

_You said that! _exclaimed Eragon, pushing Mariah off slightly, assuring her that he was fine as the cat yawned stretched and sauntered across the floor, weaving its way between objects.

"You are not fine, look what just happened to you!"

_Who else?_

_But you're just a cat! he objected._

"Eragon are you alright?"

The cat yowled, making Mariah jump, and stalked back to them. It jumped on his chest and crouched there, looking down at him with gleaming eyes. Eragon tried to sit up, but it growled, showing its fangs. _Do I look like other cats?_

_No…_

_Then what makes you think I am one? _Eragon started to say something, but the creature dug its claws into his chest. _Obviously your education has been neglected. I – to correct your mistake – am a werecat. There aren't many of us left, but I think ever a farm boy should have heard of us. _

_I didn't know you were real, _said Eragon, fascinated. A werecat! He was indeed fortunate. They were always flitting around the edges of stories, keeping to themselves and occasionally giving advice. If the legends were true, they had magical powers, lived longer than humans, and usually knew more than they told.

"Eragon?"

The werecat blinked lazily. _Knowing is independent of being. I did not know you existed before you bumbled in here and ruined my nap. Yet that doesn't mean you weren't real before you woke me._

Eragon was lost by its reasoning. _I'm sorry I disturbed you._

_I was getting up anyway, _it said. It leapt back onto the counter and licked its paw. _If I were you, I wouldn't hold onto that rod much longer. It's going to shock you again in a few seconds._

He hastily put the rod back where he had found it. _What is it?_

"Good you're up. I was beginning to wonder if you'd lost your mind. Are you alright? That stick looked like it shocked you. And why are you having a silent conversation with the werecat?"

"You knew it was a werecat?"

"…yes. Did you not?"

"Not until just now."

"Oh." She blinked, looking over at the cat.

It licked its paw again. At least she knew about werecats. _A common and boring artifact, unlike myself._

_But what's it for?_

_Didn't you find you? _The werecat finished cleaning its paw, starched once more, then jumped back up to its sleeping place. It sat down, tucked its paws under its breast, and closed its eyes, purring.

_Wait, _said Eragon, _what's your name?_

One of the werecat's slanted eyes cracked open. _I go by many names. If you are looking for my proper one, you will have to seek elsewhere. _The eye closed. Eragon gave up and turned to talk to Mariah. _However, you may call me Solembum._

_Thank you, _said Eragon seriously. Solembum's purring grew louder.

The door to the shop swung open, letting in a beam of sunlight. Angela entered with a cloth bag full of plants. Her eyes flickered at Solembum and she looked startled. "He says you talked with him."

"You can talk with him, too?" asked Eragon.

She tossed her head. "Of course, but that doesn't mean he'll say anything back." She set her plants on the counter, then walked behind it and faced them. "He likes you. That's unusual. Most of the time Solembum doesn't show himself to customers. In fact, he says that you show some promise, given a few years of work."

"Thanks."

Mariah bit back a laugh, covering her mouth.

"It's a compliment, coming from him. You're only the third person to come in here who has been able to speak with him. The first was a woman, many years ago; the second was a blind beggar; and now you. But I don't run a store just so I can prattle on. Is there anything you want? Or did you only come in to look?"

"Just to look," said Eragon, still thinking about the werecat. "Besides, I don't really need any herbs."

"That's not all I do," said Angela with a grin. "The rich fool lords pay me for love potions and the like. I never claim that they work, but for some reason they keep coming back. But I don't think you need those chicaneries." She glanced at Mariah, "Would you like your fortune told? I do that, too, for all the rich fool ladies."

Eragon laughed. "No, I'm afraid my fortune is pretty much unreadable. And I don't have any money."

Angela looked at Solembum curiously. "I think…" She gestured at the crystal ball resting on the counter. "That's only for show anyway – it doesn't do anything. But I do have… Wait here; I'll be right back." She hurried into a room at the back of the shop.

"…just remember it was your idea to come in here." Mariah said, folding her arms. "If she says anything about you dying, we're leaving."

"Deal."

She came back, breathless, holding a leather pouch, which she set on the counter. "I haven't used these for so long, I almost forgot where they were. Now, sit across from me and I'll show you why I went to all this trouble." Eragon found a stool and sat. Solembum's eyes glowed from the gap in the drawers. Mariah went to sit beside him when Angela gave her a look. "I'm afraid I can only be in one person's presence at a time… otherwise it'll disturb the fortune."

She sighed, standing back up. Eragon looked at her and winced a bit. "I'll meet you at Jeod's… remember our deal, alright? And don't linger afterward." Mariah insisted, walking out the door, well aware of werecat eyes on her back.

After what seemed like forever, Mariah was sick of waiting and went back outside; poking her head into Angela's shop to see what was taking him. She saw Angela and the werecat but not Eragon. "Uhm… did he leave?" She asked.

"A while ago yes," Angela said to her, looking up from her book only to see the door closing.

_Flayme? Is he with Saphira?_

_He just arrived, yes. And in quite a hurry if you ask me._

Mariah darted through the streets, avoiding people best she could before exiting the gates. The guards shouted something at her as she went by but she didn't bother stopping to figure it out.

"Eragon?" She called, once she'd found where the dragons were hiding.

"Up here!" His voice sounded guilty and she huffed.

"Yes, you are in trouble. I waited all that time for you!"

"Sorry!"

Flayme retrieved her from the bottom of the cliff and brought her up. She dropped down onto the ground and looked at the boy. "Explain yourself."

He moaned a bit, "I wasn't thinking…"

"What did the woman say?"

"I'd… rather not tell you."

"Why not?"

"It's… It's my fortune Mariah… not yours. I just don't feel like sharing right now… okay?"

"Okay." She said simply, blinking at him. "I hope she didn't tell you that you were gonna die or something terrible like that."

"Don't worry… she did."

"Oh. I probably would have run out here too."

He nodded, sighing.

"Sorry."

"Why are you sorry?"

"That your future sounds like it's going to be terrible."

"It didn't sound all bad…"

"Well, there's that at least." She sat down nearby Flayme and stroked his scales.

_I think it was good that you did not tell her. As I believe you should not tell Brom._

_I want to though… but at the same time I don't…_

_Why?_

_Brom doesn't need to know. I barely know him. But I want to tell Mariah… she's my friend. _

_What is holding you back then?_

_She already knows that I'm a Dragon Rider, which makes me immortal. Angela said that a death is rapidly approaching and going to cause me much grief._ He looked over at Mariah again, _I'm worried that it's Roran._

_Or her._

…_yes. _He admitted. _She said that my fate will be to leave __Alagaësia forever. I don't want her thinking about anything too much. She over thinks everything and gets worried all the time. She also said that there would be betrayal, in my family. I don't want to even think about Roran betraying me… he wouldn't do that. Never. _

_And you do not want to tell her about the moon symbol either._

_Eragon swallowed, __No. I don't want to tell her that part._

_Why not? __Saphira asked, teasingly._

_Because she's a girl. And girls get weird about romantic stuff… you're a girl, right?_

Saphira's mind trickled with annoyance; _I suppose I am, yes…_

_Sorry. But, you know what I mean. An epic romance. That my love is of noble birth and heritage. Powerful, wise and beautiful beyond compare? I don't think Mariah wants to hear about that… _Eragon leaned back against his dragoness, contemplating everything Angela had told him.

The four of them sat quietly, speaking only silently until dusk. "We should get back… the gates are going to close soon."

He nodded standing and running back with her. She smirked and rushed forward, racing him. They quickly found he was much better at keeping up with her than previously, however she still outran him.

Eragon knocked on Jeod's door. "Is Neal back?" he asked the butler.

"Yes sir. I believe he's in the study right now."

"Thank you," said Eragon. They strode to the room and poked their heads inside. They found Brom sitting before the fire, smoking. Mark was standing a ways off, reading a book. "How did it go?" asked Eragon.

"Bloody awful!" growled Brom around his pipe.

"So you talked to Brand?" Mariah raised an eyebrow.

"Not that it did any good. This _administrator _of trade is the worst sort of bureaucrat. He abides by every rule, delights in making his own whenever it can inconvenience someone, and at the same time believes that he's doing good."

"Then he won't let us see the records?" asked Eragon.

Mark rolled his eyes. "No," snapped Brom, exasperated. "Nothing I could say would sway him. He ever refused bribes! Substantial ones, too. I didn't think I would ever meet a noble who wasn't corrupt. Now that I have, I find that I prefer them when they're greedy bastards." He puffed furiously on his pipe and mumbled a steady stream of curses.

Mark looked over at Eragon, giving him a look, as if to say, Are you trying to upset him?

When he seemed to have calmed, Eragon asked tentatively, "So, what now?"

"I'm going to take the next week and teach you how to read."

Eragon winced, forcing himself not to look over at Mariah as he replied, "And after that?"

A smile split Brom's face. "After that, we're going to give Bran a nasty surprise." Eragon pestered him for details, but Brom refused to say more.

They left the room and Mariah cornered him in the hallway. "Are you kidding?"

"What?"

"You don't know how to read?"

"No…" he shuffled his feet a bit as he mumbled.

Mariah looked him over for a minute. "Why didn't you ever tell me?"

"You never asked."

"It never came up."

"No."

She sighed, "You should have told me. I would have taught you… all those times I talked about a book I'd read. How Mark's always reading. I can't believe you never said anything."

"I never felt the need to. I was always too busy to really have time to read. We didn't sit around and read when we were together either, we were outside and exploring…"

Mariah nodded. "But still…"

"I know. Brom's going to teach me though."

"Yes, and what do I get to do for a week?"

"Read?" He offered, smiling crookedly.

"Funny. Now go get cleaned up, we're eating dinner soon." She said, walking to her room.

Dinner was held in a sumptuous dining room. Jeod sat at one end of the table, a hard-eyed Helen at the other. Brom and Mariah sat on one side, with Mariah closest to Helen, Eragon and Mark on the other; all four were seated between Jeod and Helen, which Eragon felt was a dangerous place to be. There was an empty chair on his right, but he didn't mind the space. It helped to protect him from the glares of their hostess.

The food was served quietly, and Jeod and Helen wordlessly began eating. Eragon followed suit, thinking, _I've had cheerier meals at funerals._ And he had, in Carvahall. He remembered many burials that had been sad, yes, but not unduly so. This was different; he could feel simmering resentment pouring from Helen throughout the dinner.

Mariah glanced up at him from time to time; trying not to laugh at how awkward the situation was, debating with herself whether or not to startle him by jumping into his mind without warning. It probably would result in them getting kicked out of the house, so she decided against it.


	21. Ch 20: Onset

**Chapter Twenty: Onset**

The next week went by painfully slow. During the day, Eragon would wake, eat breakfast then vanish into the study with Brom, leaving her and Mark to do whatever they so wished. Most of the time, they were out exploring the town. Or Mariah would visit Flayme and Saphira in the forest outside town, when they weren't hunting several leagues away from Teirm. They would arrive back home a few hours before dinner and wait for Eragon and Brom to leave the study to spar. The second day, Brom asked Mark to help him. With two of them against Eragon, he had more of a challenge. Mariah sat on the sidelines to watch with the servants and small children.

"You better watch yourself Eragon," Mark said, having maneuvered quickly behind him.

"No fair. This isn't fair, there's two of you."

"So?" Mark asked, "What's gonna happen when you're fighting four people at once? One on every side of you? You'll be dead. That's what."

Eragon merely swallowed and parried away another blow from Brom's sword.

Mariah shook her head and leaned against the wall, watching the fight. His newly found sword skills were quite impressive. Considering he'd only been training for a few months, at best. This definitely wasn't like the fake-sparring they'd done in the woods with sticks when they were younger either. It was much more fast-paced. Mark was giving him a run for his money, Brom slowly easing off until he was barely participating in the fight. In a moment, he was next to Mariah, leaning against the wall beside her, his sword sheathed, watching.

Mark was an excellent swordsman. He'd been training since he could hold a stick in his hand. On any given day back home in Carvahall, he could battle for hours non-stop. Brom had to break up training sessions between the two siblings on multiple occasions because neither of them would give in. Today, Mark wasn't training himself though, he was training Eragon, giving him some skills he would need in order to save his own life, or one of their lives in the future. He personally saw to it that he would have a fair chance in real combat; that he, his sister or Brom wouldn't need to pull Eragon's dead weight because he couldn't fight to save himself.

The fight was over in a flurry of motions, Eragon didn't see coming. Mariah did, watching. She knew how her brother's brain worked. He calculated and controlled the situation until his opportune moment. Mark swept his long leg out, keeping his balance and lifted Eragon's legs out from underneath him. The blond fell to the ground in a heap, sword tumbling out of reach. With a smooth flick of his wrist, Mark had the point of his sword at Eragon's throat. "It's at this point you would die. Any last words?"

"…can I get up now?"

"No. Because you're dead. Sad day for you. You weren't watching close enough."

"I was watching your sword!"

"But not me. Stay close, but keep your distance. Anticipate your opponent's next move, but don't expect it. Be alert and focused and you'll stay alive to fight another day." He sheathed his sword and walked inside for dinner, leaving Eragon in the dirt.

He huffed, realizing Mark's lessons might even be more brutal and direct than Brom's. Though, it did make sense, seeing as Brom had raised him. At least Mariah wasn't like that. "Mariah?"

"Get up, we're having dinner." She insisted, walking after her brother.

Eragon sighed and pulled himself up, collecting his sword and following.

"What were you and grandfather talking about earlier?" Mariah asked.

"One of the merchants that arrived in town today was adding to the rumors that have been spreading the past few days." Mark said, "The same thing as yesterday, 'powerful people disappearing from their houses in the night, their mangled corpses being discovered in the morning' you know."

Other than the paraphrasing, Mariah and Eragon weren't really allowed in on the discussions Mark, Brom and Jeod often had in undertone.

The days passed quickly, and soon a week had gone by. Eragon's skills were rudimentary, but he could now read whole pages without asking Brom's help. In the afternoon, Bom summoned them all to the study. "Now that you can help us, I think it's time to move ahead."

"What do you have in mind?" asked Eragon.

A fierce smile danced on Brom's face. Mark smirked. Jeod groaned. "I know that look; it's what got us into trouble in the first place."

"A slight exaggeration," said Brom, "but not unwarranted. Very well, this is what we'll do…"

* * *

"You don't look like you slept well last night." Mariah said, prodding at him once more, trying to get him to tell her what was bothering him.

"What?" He blinked, "Oh, nothing…" Eragon insisted again. He'd woken out of his fitful sleep in the morning with memories from his dream prior. There was a woman chained in a cell, crying. Then he'd woken up in the middle of the night, crying uncontrollably. He wasn't about to tell Mariah any of that. "I just didn't sleep well. You're right about that."

"You'd better take a nap today then, because tonight we're going to the castle remember."

"Yes. Of course." He said.

They stayed at Jeod's during the day. Mark read while Mariah and Eragon talked well into the afternoon. He finally went to sleep in his room after he realized she wasn't about to stop pestering him about it. He was still tired.

The sun was sinking slowly, leaving Mariah fidgety with anticipation. Finally, the sun went below the horizon, enveloping the world in darkness. She rushed to her room to get ready, tying her sword to her waist and tucking a few daggers on her body. Mariah pulled her cape around her shoulders and pinned it tightly, hoping it wouldn't be too cold out during their endeavor.

She stepped into the hallway with Eragon and Brom already waiting. Mark closed his door behind him quietly and looked at them all, one hand resting on his sword. Jeod, dressed in a black doublet and hose, was waiting for them outside. From his waist swung an elegant rapier and a leather pouch. Brom eyed the rapier and observed, "That toad sticker is too thin for any real fighting. What will you do if someone comes after you with a broadsword or a flamberge?"

"Be realistic," said Jeod. "None of the guards has a flamberge. Besides, this _toad sticker_ is faster than a broadsword."

Brom shrugged. "It's your neck." From Mark's small smirk, Mariah could see that he agreed. A rapier was not something to use in a close fight. It was a weapon, yes, but for show, not function.

They walked casually along the street, avoiding watchmen and soldiers. Eragon was tense and his heart pounded. As they passed Angela's shop, a flash of movement on the roof caught his attention, but he saw no one. His palm tingled. He looked at the roof again, but it was still empty.

Just before they reached the gate, Mark stopped and glanced around. "I'll wait out here, just in case." Brom looked at him, ready to protest, but Mark held up a hand, "I insist."

"Fine, Mariah come along now, hurry." She nodded, doing so quickly.

Jeod silently took the lead and strode up to the gates, trying to look at ease. He pounded on the gate and waited.

A small grille slid open and a surly guard peered out. "Ya?" he grunted shortly. Mariah could smell the rum on his breath and wrinkled her nose in disgust.

"We need to get in," said Jeod.

The guard peered at Jeod closer. "Wha' for?"

"The boy here left something very valuable in my office. We have to retrieve it immediately." Eragon hung his head, shamefaced.

The guard frowned, clearly impatient to get back to his bottle. "Ah, wha'ever," he said, swinging his arm. "Jus' make sure 'n give 'im a good beating f'r me."

"I'll do that," assured Jeod as the guard unbolted a small door set into the gate. They entered the keep, then Brom handed the guard a few coins.

"Thank'ee," mumbled the man, tottering away. As soon as h was gone, Eragon pulled his bow from its tube and strung it. Mariah put a hand on her sword, glancing at him before following Jeod quickly. They hurried, listening for any soldiers on patrol. At the records room, Brom tried the door. It was locked. He put his hand against the door and muttered. "Ma'mor." Mariah blinked, watching the door unlock. It swung open with a faint click. Brom grabbed a torch from the wall and they darted inside, closing the door quietly.

The squat room was filled with wooden racks piled high with scrolls. A barred window was set in the far wall. Jeod threaded his way between the racks, running his eyes over the scrolls. He halted at the back of the room. "Over here," he said. "These are the shipping records for the past five years. You can tell the date by the wax seals on the corner."

"So what do we do now?" asked Eragon, clearly pleased they had made it so far without being discovered.

Mariah looked over at him, about to give him a clever retort when Jeod interrupted her thoughts. "Start at the top and work down. Some scrolls only deal with taxes. You can ignore those. Look for anything that mentions Seithr oil." He took a length of parchment from his pouch and stretched it out on the floor, then set a bottle of ink and a quill pen next to it. "So we can keep track of whatever we find," he explained.

Brom scooped up an armful of scrolls from the top of the rack and piled them on the floor. He sat and unrolled the first one. Mariah knelt beside him, her fingers nimbly opening another one, skimming over it quickly, knowing there wasn't much time. Every time she found something useful she mentioned it to Jeod quietly, trying to keep the noise to a minimum.

"There are soldiers looking for us."

Mariah jumped a little at the sudden announcement, looking at Eragon.

"How do you know?" asked Brom sharply.

"I listened in on the guard. His replacement just sent men to search for us. We have to get out of here. They've probably already discovered that Jeod's office is empty."

"Are you sure?" asked Jeod.

"Yes!" said Eragon impatiently. "They're on their way."

"No matter we have to finish this now!" Brom snatched another scroll from the rack.

Mariah was on her ninth scroll when they finished, shoving them back onto the rack. Jeod packed his ink and quill quickly before they all four flew out the door. They raced from the room and shut the door, but just as it closed they heard the heavy tramp of soldiers' boots at the end of the hall. They turned to leave, but Brom hissed furiously, "Damnation! It's not locked." He put his hand against the door. The lock clicked at the same time three armed soldiers came into view.

She couldn't believe her grandfather would have been so careless, however at the sight of only three soldiers, her worry lessened. There were four of them. Although, Jeod did have a rapier, so more like three and a half.

"Get away from that door!" shouted one of them. Brom stepped back, assuming a surprised expression. The three men marched up to them. The tallest one demanded, "What are you trying to get into the records?" Mariah said Eragon tighten his grip on his bow, his body tense as he was ready to run. Her sword was hidden behind her cape, carefully concealed from the soldier's line of sight.

"I'm afraid we lost our way." The strain was so evident in Jeod's voice. A drop of sweat rolled down his neck.

The soldier glared at them suspiciously. "Check inside the room," he ordered.

Eragon held his breath as the soldier stepped up to the door, tried to open it and then pounded on it with his mailed fist. "It's locked, sir."

The leader scratched his chin. "Ar'right, then. I don't know what you were up to, but as long as the door's locked, I guess you're free to go. Come on." The soldiers surrounded them and marched them back to the keep. At the main gates, the soldier pointed and said, "Now, you walk through those and don't try anything. We'll be watching. If you have to come back, wait until morning."

"Of course," promised Jeod.

Once they were a ways away from the castle, Eragon jumped in the air. Brom shot him a cautioning look and growled, "Walk back to the house normally. You can celebrate there."

Mark rejoined them a moment later, looking at his sister. "You're alive." She nodded slightly and walked more quickly after Brom.

After they had arrived in the study, Eragon jumped again, "We did it!"

"Yes, but now we have to figure out if it was worth the trouble," said Brom. Jeod took a map of Alagaësia from the shelves and unrolled it on the desk. Mark helped him keep it smoothed out, looking it over, realizing it was probably one of the best maps he'd seen of the country ever. His eyes scanned over it, trying to memorize everything all at once.

On the left side of the map, the ocean extended to the unknown west. Along the coast stretched the Spine, an immense length of mountains. The Hadarac Desert filled the center of the map – the east end was blank. Somewhere in that void hid the Varden. To the south was Surda, a small country that had seceded from the Empire after the Riders' fall. Mark had been told, on many occasions, that Surda secretly supported the Varden. Near Surda's eastern border was a mountain range labeled Beor Mountains. Brom had told them stories about the southern range, supposedly ten times higher than the Spine. To the east, the map was empty.

Five islands rested off the coast of Surda: Nía, Parlim, Uden, Illium and Beirland. Nía was no more than an outcropping of rock, but Beirland, the largest, had a small town. Farther up, near Teirm, was a jagged island called Sharktooth. And high to the north was one more island, immense and shaped like a knobby hand. Vroengard: the ancestral home of the Riders – once a place of glory, but now a looted, empty shell haunted by strange beasts. In the center of Vroengard was the abandoned city of Doru Araeba.

Carvahall was a small dot at the top of Palancar Valley. Level with it, but across the plains, sprawled the forest Du Weldenvarden. Like the Beor Mountains, its easten end was unmapped. Parts of Du Weldenvarden's western edge had been settled, but its heart lay mysterious and unexplored. The forest was wilder than the Spine; the few who braved its depth often came back raving mad, or not at all.

In the center of the Empire, sat Urû'baen. King Galbatorix ruled from there with his black dragon, Shruikan, by his side. Eragon reached over and put his finger on Urû'baen. "The Ra'zac are sure to have a hiding place here."

Mark let out a short, dry chuckle.

"You had better hope that that isn't their only sanctuary," said Brom flatly. "Otherwise you'll never get near them."

Jeod took the parchment out of his pouch and said, "From what I saw in the records, there have been shipments of Seithr oil to ever y major city in the Empire over the past five years. As far as I can tell, all of them might have been ordered by wealthy jewelers. I'm not sure how we can narrow down the list without more information."

Brom swept a hand over the map. "I think we can eliminate some cities. The Ra'zac have to travel wherever the king wants, and I'm sure he keeps them busy. If they're expected to go anywhere at anytime, the only reasonable place for them to stay is at crossroads where they can reach every part of the country fairly easily." He was excited now and paced the room. "This crossroads ahs to be large enough so the Ra'zac will be inconspicuous. It also has to have enough trade so any unusual requests – special food for their mounts, for example – will go unnoticed."

"That makes sense," said Jeod, nodding. "Under those conditions, we can ignore most of the cities in the north. The only big ones are Teirm, Gil'ead, and Ceunon. I know they're not in Teirm, and I doubt that the oil has been shipped farther up the coast to Narda – it's too small. Ceunon is too isolated…only Gil'ead remains."

"The Ra'zac might be there," conceded Brom. "It would have a certain irony."

"It would at that," Jeod acknowledged softly. Mark looked between them, but knew better than to question it.

"And what about the southern cities?" Mariah asked, pointing at the map.

"Well," said Jeod. "There's obviously Urû'baen, but that's an unlikely destination. If someone were to die from Seithr oil in Galbatorix's court, it would be all too easy for an earl or some other lord to discover that the Empire had been buying large amounts of it. That still leaves many others, any one of which could be the one we want."

"Yes," said Eragon, "but the oil wasn't sent to all of them. The parchment only lists Kuasta, Dras-Leona, Aroughs, and Belatona."

Mark interrupted, "Kuasta wouldn't work for the Ra'zac; it's on the coast and surrounded by mountains. Aroughs is isolated like Ceunon, though it is a center of trade. That leaves Belatona and Dras-Leona, which are rather close together. Of the two, Dras-Leona is the likelier. It's larger and better situated." Eragon nodded in agreement.

"And that's where nearly all the goods of the Empire pass through at one time or another, including Teirm's," said Jeod. "it would be a good place for the Ra'zac to hide."

"So… Dras-Leona," said Brom as he sat down and lit his pipe. "What do the records show?"

Jeod looked at the parchment. "Here it is. At the beginning of the year, three shipments of Seithr oil were sent to Dras-Leona. Each shipment was only two weeks apart, and the records say they were all transported by the same merchant. The same thing happened last year and the year before that. I doubt any one jeweler, or even a group of them, has the money for so much oil."

"What about Gil'ead?" asked Brom, raising an eyebrow.

"It doesn't have the same access to the rest of the Empire. And," Jeod tapped the parchment, "they've only received the oil twice in recent years." He thought for a moment, then said, "Besides, I think we forgot something – Helgrind."

Mark shivered a bit as Brom nodded. "Ah yes, the Dark Gates. It's been many years since I've thought of it. You're right, that would make Dras-Leona perfect for the Ra'zac. I guess it's decided, then; that's where we'll go."

Eragon sat abruptly back down in the chair, causing Mariah to jump a bit at the sudden movement. She should have been used to it by now.

The parchment crackled as Jeod slowly rolled up the map. Mark made a face, wincing a bit, his fingers twitching, wanting the map. He handed it to Brom and said, "You'll need this, I'm afraid." Mark cheered in his head. "Your expeditions often take you into obscure regions." Nodding, Brom accepted the map. Jeod clapped him on the shoulder. "It doesn't feel right that you will leave without me. My heart expects to go along, but the rest of me reminds me of my age and responsibilities."

"I know," said Brom. "But you have a life in Teirm. It is time for the next generation to take up the standard. You'ev done your part; be happy."

"What of you?" asked Jeod. "Does the road ever end for you?"

A hollow laugh escaped Brom's lips, catching Mariah and Mark's full attention. "I see it coming, but not for a while." He extinguished his pipe, and they left for their rooms, exhausted.

_Flayme?_

_Yes, my darling?_

_We're leaving. Tomorrow I think._

_Where are we going?_

_Far to the south and east. _

_Far?_

_Yes. We shall fly together soon again._

_I shall count the moments my little one. Now rest. Good night._

_Night Flayme, love you. _

* * *

_Ma'mor - Unlock_

I just found the Traffic Stats tab on my account. It's awesome. I really do wonder if this story is being read as many times as it says it is. It'd be great if you could just say. "Hi. I read your story." Don't even have to stay if it's good, bad or completely sucks. Anything would be great. This really brightens up my day, knowing people I've never met before are reading what I have to write. I'm rambling now, so I'll stop.

Hope you liked these past few chapters. I know they're lengthy, wordy and mirroring the book, but there's no way to get around some of this information. And I can't have holes, where people are wondering, "What's going on here? I haven't read Eragon in six years... why are they going to Dras-Leona now?" That would be bad.

With Love, As Always

Mariah


	22. Ch 21: Tenuous Calculations

**Chapter Twenty-One: Tenuous Calculations**

In the morning, they all started packing. The boys went to the stables to retrieve their saddlebags. Jeod greeted Brom while Helen watched from the doorway. With grave looks, the two men clasped hands. "I'll miss you, old man," said Jeod.

"And you I," said Brom thickly. Mariah had never seen him quite so choked up. He bowed his white head and then turned to Helen. "Thank you for your hospitality; it was most gracious." Her face reddened. The siblings were pretty sure she was getting ready to slap him. Brom continued, unperturbed, "You have a good husband; take care of him. There are few men as brave and as determined as he is. But even he cannot weather difficult times without support from those he loves." He bowed again and said gently, "Only a suggestion, dear lady."

They watched as indignation and hurt crossed Helen's face. Her eyes flashed as she shut the door brusquely. Sighing, Jeod ran his fingers through his hair. Eragon thanked him for all his help, then mounted Cadoc. Behind him, Mark was already on Aluora, Mariah hugging him around his waist. With their last farewells, they all departed.

They exited the city gates without a second glace from the guards. Mariah was perfectly content leaning against her brother, enjoying the quiet, fresh morning air, when Eragon had to start talking. She sighed a bit and turned her head to listen.

"What are were cats?"

Brom looked surprised at the question. "Why the sudden curiosity?"

"I heard someone mention them in Teirm. They're not real, are they?" said Eragon, pretending ignorance. Mariah blinked. He really was such a bad liar. Much to her surprise, Brom didn't seem to catch his lying, or just dismissed it and answered the question.

"They are quite real. During the Riders' years of glory, they were as renowned as the dragons. King and elves kept them as companions – yet the werecats were free to do what they chose. Very little has ever been known about them. I'm afraid that their race has become rather scarce recently."

"Could they use magic?"

"No one's sure, but they could certainly do unusual things. They always seemed to know what was going on and somehow or another managed to get themselves involved." Brom pulled his hood up to block a chill wind.

Mariah smiled a bit, resting her head back against Mark's spine.

"What's Helgrind?" She groaned a bit at Eragon's second question, having hoped the momentary pause would last a few hours.

"You'll see when we get to Dras-Leona."

Short and to the point, Mariah hummed at Brom's quick answer, which shut Eragon's questioning down for a while.

Once Teirm was out of sight, the two Riders called to their dragons loudly, startling the horses. They answered and sped towards them. Flayme dove down through the clouds, Saphira on his tail, emitting a dull roar. Wings flared open, the sunlight catching the thin membranes, turning them translucent and silhouetting the dark veins. Mariah's hair whipped behind her as the air blasted towards them.

She tumbled off Aluora's saddle and rushed to her dragon. Eragon tossed Cadoc's reins to Brom. "We'll join you for lunch."

Brom nodded, but seemed preoccupied. "Have a good time," he said, then looked at the dragons and smiled. "It's good to see you again."

_You as well. _Flayme ducked his head once in response as Mariah climbed up his back. Eragon hopped onto Saphira's shoulders and held on tightly as she bounded upward, struggling to catch up with the red dragon. With the wind at her tail, Saphira sliced through the air, looping upside down once she gained the same altitude as them. _Now she is just showing off._

_No, she's trying to throw off Eragon._

Flayme chuckled at the thought and snorted smoke from his nostrils, flicking his tail and sweeping past the dragoness. Mariah smiled over at Eragon and waved before breaking out into laughter when he waved back. Dragon Riders. That's what they were, it was real. Right then, at that very moment. They flew together, Flayme and Saphira taking turns flying ahead of one another, above, below and beside so their Riders could try speaking to one another over the loud air flow. It didn't work well. To hear anything, Mariah had to resolve to yelling, so most of the time Eragon just made faces at her to get a response.

By noon Mariah could feel her hands and face going slightly numb from the cold air. Dragons naturally radiated heat, but Flayme couldn't do anything about keeping her warm. Eragon was riding bareback, so his legs probably felt like they were on fire. They landed for lunch and rejoined Brom and Mark. She curled up next to her brother, blowing on her hands to try and get her fingers warmed back up, tucking them against her body as they sat in the sun.

After lunch, Eragon had decided to ride Cadoc for a while. Mariah suspected at first it was because he had been riding bareback on Saphira, but after another few moments, decided it wasn't the case. She shrugged and climbed back into Flayme's saddle. He pushed off the ground and followed Saphira.

Mark rode with Aluora beside Brom and Snowfire. The horses nickered and snorted at one another, clearly deep in conversation. He chuckled but otherwise stayed silent. Then, after a while, Eragon slowed Cadoc back to them. "I need to talk to you. I wanted to do it when we first arrived in Teirm, but I decided to wait until now."

"About what?" asked Brom.

Eragon paused, looking at Mark. He shook his head and clicked his tongue, spurring his she-horse ahead a few yards, still in view but far enough away where it didn't appear he was listening in on the conversation. After a few moments however, he couldn't hear anything behind him and halted Aluora, twisting in his saddle, finding the path behind him empty. He groaned a bit and wheeled her around. She snorted and trotted back along the path. A hundred feet away, he could make out Eragon and Brom on their horses, talking together. He sighed. "I leave them alone to talk and they get to into the conversation they forget to ride." Mark looked up, spotting the dragons flying overhead, feeling bad for his sister who was alone up there.

_Are you enjoying your flight?_

_It's the best one we've had yet. We're not racing to get anywhere, we're together now and it's fun racing against Saphira. _She grinned.

_Is it now? _She asked, snorting at them and snapping her jaws towards Flayme's tail as she made another pass. _I think we shall see about this. Once more._

_How far?_

_To the edge of the forest. _She insisted. Without warning, she bolted ahead.

Flayme growled slightly before beating his wings and racing after her, leaving Mariah to hold on tightly.

"Aaah! Flayme! Warn me next time!" She shouted, closing her eyes.

Mark heard hooves behind him again and smiled as Brom and Eragon rejoined him, nodding. He turned Aluora back around and trotted towards the edge of the woods where the dragons were racing towards. They stopped for the day once they reached them. Flayme was lying about in the sun, humming quietly as he soaked the heat in. Mariah was sitting on the ground, drawing pictures in the dirt with a stick.

"There you are!" She sighed, throwing her hands up. "Took you forever."

"Not all of us have dragons to ride on little sister."

"Your horse is fast."

"They stopped to chat."

"Stopped? As in a full stop, not moving stopped?"

"Yes."

"Why?" She turned towards the two of them, putting her hands on her hips. "What was so vitally important that you had to stop and talk?"

Eragon shrugged and looked at Brom who insisted he go look for water while he started a fire. Mark grabbed his bow, going off to hunt, vanishing into the woods opposite of Eragon so there wouldn't be so much noise making. Mariah sighed as Brom told her to stay put. She huffed and watched him make the fire before going to the forest and finding some wood to burn. While he was gone, Mariah heard shouting from the woods. Eragon.

She blinked and raced after him, one hand on her sword as she followed the yelling. She came across the stream and jumped over; avoiding the slippery moss Eragon had obviously tripped on. He was staggering to his feet, looking at the ground while clutching his right arm. He looked over at her, surprised to see her there.

"What did you do?"

"Urgal."

Her eyes widened and she spotted the footprint in the mud on the ground, calling from her mind. _Flayme, get Mark and Brom now! There are Urgals! _She didn't get an actual response, but felt him acknowledge her command and move. Together, they raced back towards camp, avoiding any more falls. When they broke the tree line there were dragons lashing out at them. "Stop!"

"It's me!" Eragon shouted, hanging onto his dagger as he ran to her. "Oops? You could've killed me! Where's Brom?"

"I'm right here," snapped Brom's voice from behind Saphira's wings. "Tell your crazy dragon to release me; she won't listen to me."

"Let him go!" said Eragon, exasperated. "Didn't you tell him?" As she responded, Brom stepped forward angrily.

"Where's Mark?" Mariah asked, looking around, spotting Flayme flying towards them. He landed and dropped the boy from his front paws. Mark rolled into a heap on the ground, groaning.

"Be more careful next time!" He insisted, standing up and looking over his broken arrow, silently thanking that it wasn't his bow.

"I found an Urgal footprint. And it's fresh."

Mark's eyes flicked up and Brom immediately turned serious. "Saddle the horses. We're leaving." He put out the fire as Mark ran to Aluora, but Eragon did not move. "What's wrong with your arm?"

"My wrist is broken," he said, swaying.

Brom cursed and looked at Cadoc while he saddled Snowfire. Mariah rushed over and started saddling the brown horse for Eragon, pulling him over with her.

"We'll have to put a splint on your arm as soon as possible. Try not to move your wrist until then." Brom insisted. Eragon gripped the reins tightly with his left hand.

Mariah looked at Eragon's swollen wrist and shook her head, climbing up in front of him on Cadoc, taking the reins from him. "Hang on and don't move your wrist."

Brom said to the dragons, "It's almost dark; you might as well fly right overhead. If Urgals show up, they'll think twice about attacking with you nearby."

_They'd better, or else they won't think again,_ Saphira snapped as she took flight. Flayme blinked and leaped after her after gaining reassurance from Mariah to go ahead without her.

The light was disappearing quickly, and the horses were tired, but they spurred them on without respite. Eragon's wrist, swollen and red, continued to throb. A mile from the camp, Brom halted. "Listen," he said. Aluora stopped in place, her ears sticking straight up as she whipped her head around.

They heard the faint call of a hunting horn behind them. As it fell silent, panic gripped hold of Eragon, Mariah could feel his body go rigid. "They must have found where we were," said Brom," and probably the dragon's tracks. They will chase us now. It's not in their nature to let prey escape." Then two horns winded. They were closer. A chill ran through Eragon. "Our only chance is to run," said Brom. He raised his head to the sky, and his face blanked as he called Saphira.

She rushed out of the night sky and landed. Flayme was right beside her. "Leave Cadoc. Go with them. You'll be safer," commanded Brom.

"What about you?" Eragon protested, but Mariah was already on the ground, grabbing his shoulder and pulling him off the horse.

"We'll be fine. Now go!" Unable to muster the energy to argue with either of them, Eragon climbed onto Saphira with Mariah's help while Brom lashed Snowfire and rode away with Cadoc. Aluora was far ahead of them with her rider. Saphira flew after him, flapping above the galloping horses.

Flayme flew behind the dragoness at Mariah's request, watching as Eragon struggled to hold onto Saphira with his broken wrist. The horns blared nearby, bringing a fresh wave of terror. Brom crashed through the underbrush after Mark, forcing the horses to their limits. The horns trumpeted in unison close behind them, then were quiet.

Minutes passed. _Where are the Urgals?_

A horn sounded, this time in the distance. They sighed in relief. Eragon rested against Saphira's neck, while on the ground Brom and Mark slowed their rush, clearly relieved.

The second time the horn blasted, it was directly beneath them. Flayme jerked, startled and heard whinnying horses below. The horse riders resumed their frenzied retreat. Horned Urgals, shouting with coarse voices, barreled along the trail on horses, swiftly gaining ground. They were almost in sight of Brom and Mark; they couldn't outrun them. Eragon looked over at Mariah, panic stricken

_We have to do something!_ He shouted, his voice popping into her head.

_What? _Asked Saphira.

_Land in front of the Urgals!_

_Are you crazy?_ Saphira demanded.

Mariah looked down, realizing his plan. Flayme shot down first, Saphira following close behind. They pulled ahead of the Urgals, and then turned, preparing to drop onto the trail. As the Urgals pounded up the trail, he shouted, "Now!" The dragons abruptly folded their wings and dropped straight down from above the trees, landing on the trail in a spray of dirt and rocks.

The Urgals shouted with alarm and yanked on their horses' reins. The animals went stiff-legged and collided into each other, but the Urgals quickly untangled themselves to face the dragons with barred weapons. Hate crossed their faces as they glared at them. There were twelve of them, all ugly, jeering brutes. Eragon wondered why they did not flee. He had thought that the sight of Sapira would frighten them away. _Why are they waiting? Are they going to attack us or not?_

Mariah shook her head, looking down at them. The largest Urgal advanced and spat, "Our master wishes to speak with you, humans!" The monster spoke in deep, rolling gutturals.

She was about ready to tell Flayme to eat him when Eragon spoke back. "Who is your master?" he asked.

The Urgal sneered. "His name does not deserve to be given to one as low as yourself. He rules the sky and holds dominance over the earth. You are no more than a stay ant to him. Yet he has decreed that you shall be brought before him, _alive_. Take heart that you have become worthy of such notice!"

"I'll never go with you nor any of my enemies!" declared Eragon, thinking of Yazuac. "Whether you serve Shade, Urgal, or some twisted fiend I've not heard of, I have no wish to parley with him."

Shaking her head, Mariah shouted at him from atop her snarling dragon, "Tell your master that we shall decide our own fates. He need not pursue us, for we refuse to be taken in chains. If he wishes to see us, he shall have to come himself. We shall not be taken anywhere by force, unless our souls have already departed."

"That is a grave mistake," growled the Urgal, showing his fangs. "There is no way to escape him. Eventually you will stand before our master. If you resist, he will fill your days with agony."

"I dare him to do so," Mariah snarled down at him.

"Keep your offer and tell your master that the crows can eat his entrails for all I care!" Eragon said.

Rage swept through the Urgals; their leader howled, gnashing his teeth. "We'll drag you to him, then!" He waved his arm and the Urgals rushed at Saphira. Raising his right hand, Eragon barked, "Jierda!"

"Wait!" Mariah shouted at him, Saphira roaring.

The monsters faltered as Eragon's palm glowed. Beams of light lanced from his hand, striking each of them in the gut. The Urgals were thrown through the air and smashed into trees, falling senseless to the ground.

Fatigue suddenly drained Eragon of strength and he tumbled off Saphira. His mind felt hazy and dull. As Saphira bent over him, he realized that he might have gone too far. The energy needed to lift and throw twelve Urgals was enormous. Fear engulfed him as he struggled to stay conscious.

At the edge of his vision he saw one of the Urgals stagger to his feet, sword in hand. Eragon tried to warn Saphira, but he as too weak. The Urgal crept toward Saphira until he was well past her tail, then raised his sword to strike her neck.

In a flurry of red, the Urgal was rocketed away from her. Talons slashed with blinding speed. Blood spurted everywhere as the Urgal was rent in two. Flayme growled and crunched half the Urgal in his mouth. He lifted his head, looking over at Saphira before simply opening his jaws and letting the ruins tumble from his mouth.

Saphira snapped her jaws and gently wrapped her claws around Eragon's torso, then growled and jumped into the air.

Mariah held onto Flayme's saddle as he flew after her, watching Eragon's limp body hanging in her paws. They landed a while later near Brom and Mark. She fell off the dragon and hugged her brother, who was sickly pale with worry. Brom hurried to Eragon, looking at him before talking to Saphira. Mark let go of his sister and followed his grandfather.

"We need to keep moving. It's not safe here."

"But Eragon-"

"Will be fine for a while longer, we can't stay here." She looked at her friend and nodded, climbing back onto Flayme's back and flying off with him again.

_He shall be alright Mariah. If Brom is not worried, then it shall be alright._

_That was too much magic though._

_I agree. However, Brom is the one who taught you your magic. He knows best._

_Right. _She sighed.

_Relax, he is sleeping now. I'm sure he will be better after he is rested. You are both still alive and now we are flying away from the Urgals. You may relax now my darling._

_Thank you Flayme,_ she said, hugging him around his neck slightly, avoiding the spikes and sighing against his scales.

* * *

_Jierda_ – break/hit

Just wanted to wish everyone a Merry Christmas. If you don't celebrate Christmas, then have a good Sunday, December 25th, 2011.

I hope you enjoy this chapter. Eragon getting knocked out is always fun. I think this is the third time it's happened? Once in Carvahall... Once in Yazuac with the Urgals and now this time... I'm seeing a pattern.

With Love, As Always,

Mariah


	23. Ch 22: Hunting

**Chapter Twenty-Two: Hunting**

"We'll stay here for a while." Brom said as Mariah walked over to them.

She sighed a bit, looking pitiful. "I'm afraid all the Urgals are still alive… ten of them, at least."

"You didn't kill them? Then what was all that magic for?"

"Eragon threw them all… it was, stupid. I didn't realize he was going to do that or I would have stopped him. I didn't realize he knew any words in the Ancient Language at all."

"I taught him a few during our travels."

"Oh…" she said, sighing. "Again. I'm sorry…"

"It's not a matter of you being sorry or not. It was a stupid thing to do. Don't follow; lead, especially between you and him. You have more sense child. You know that."

"Yes grandfather," she admitted, rubbing the back of her neck, looking behind her as Saphira landed. Mariah hurried over, helping remove Eragon from her talons. "Is he going to be alright?"

"Yes. He'll wake up as foolish as ever. He could have died, using that kind of power all at once. I thought he knew better by now," Brom trailed off some, looking at Mark. "We need to fix him a splint."

Mark nodded, "Right." He picked through the brush nearby, trying to find a thick, straight stick. While he was doing so, Mariah rummaged through her bags to find a scarf. It was tightly knit and worn; she'd had it for several years already. When Mark came back, he offered the sticks he'd found to Brom who took them and went to set Eragon's wrist. In a moment, he'd finished off the splint, wrapping the scarf around the sticks and returned to his feet.

"We'll rest here for the night. It's dark out now and we need to sleep." Brom insisted.

The siblings nodded without a sound, doing as he said and falling straight to sleep, exhausted.

The next morning, Brom was the first one awake. "Mariah, I want you to stay here. Mark and I have a few things to do…" he said, tightening his sword belt as the sun rose.

She blinked, looking between them as she sat brushing out her hair. He walked to the dragons, looking between them. Saphira was insistent on going to find the Urgals and murder them all, half threatening Flayme to try and disagree with her. He snorted and lay down near his Rider. Brom climbed onto the Dragoness' back and flew off.

"Where are you going?"

"To kill the Urgals," Mark said, picking up a handful of rocks, pocketing them. He glanced over at her, raising an eyebrow. "You have to stay here. Don't even think about following. Flayme, stay with them. Eragon can't move and if the Urgals discover our camp site, they're going to need you to protect them. We'll be back soon."

"Soon?"

"Soon enough." He promised, mounting Aluora and clicking his tongue before shooting after Saphira and Brom.

She huffed and sat down near Eragon, Flayme curling around them. Mariah looked down and pushed his hair out of his face, realizing she never did give him that haircut. If they weren't going anywhere for a while, she figured it'd be alright if she set up camp while Brom and Mark were gone.

_I think we are far enough away from the Urgals where it won't be a problem. Go right ahead._

She smiled at her dragon and retrieved a bed roll and a blanket from his saddle. Rolling it out next to Eragon, she buzzed her lips a bit, trying to figure out how to move him without hurting his wrist. Mariah shrugged and moved his legs then his torso carefully, shuffling him over off the dirt before throwing a blanket over him. Rolling up another, she tucked it under his head. "There." She stood back up and went to find some firewood, Flayme keeping her entertained while they waited.

Shortly before nightfall, the two came back. Saphira arrived first, landing in the small clearing, causing the campfire to flicker at the wind gust she caused.

"You're back," Mariah observed, looking up from the rabbit she was skinning. Eragon's quiver and arrows were sitting beside her.

"Is Mark not?"

"No… not yet." She admitted.

_He is coming now._ Flayme said, looking towards the woods.

Aluora trotted into camp looking tired. She shook out her mane, freeing debris from it as Mark dismounted. He sighed and unsaddled his horse before dragging himself over to his sister, flopping on the ground.

"Have fun?"

"So much." He said.

"How many did you kill?" Brom asked.

"One." He sighed, "I saw a few more, but they were grouped together and moving too fast, I just managed to catch a straggler. They're still searching though. We'll have to be on guard tonight. You?"

"Three," said Brom. "I hoped to catch more… we'll have to go out tomorrow as well." He looked over at Eragon who was still dead to the world before sitting down by the fire.

"Damn good thing he has people looking out for him," Mark grumbled, "He'd've been dead six times over by now. At least. You take too good care of him 'riah."

She sighed, looking at her brother. "If you over-use your magic and pass out, I'll do the same for you, alright? Feel better now?"

"No." He said, snatching up some of the cooked meat and eating.

Mariah rolled her eyes and speared the rabbit on another stick, placing it over the fire, letting Brom eat as well, holding off until the boys were finished. "Are you going to stay up tonight then?" She asked.

"Yes. You two get some rest." He said, nodding.

_I'll make sure to stay up with him. _Flayme said, snorting.

Saphira nodded. _We'll take turns._ She insisted.

The next day went much the same. Brom and Mark left early in the morning to hunt Urgals. She was stuck sitting at camp with her dragon and a half-dead Eragon. Seeing a she had extra time now she decided to break out the stew-pot. Mariah took her time making dinner. She allowed the hunting to take most of her day. A rabbit and three squirrels rounded out her catch around noon. Mariah filled the pot with water and let it heat up, pouring the chunks of meat in as well. After checking to make sure Eragon wasn't catching a fever and adjusting his splint, she went back to the forest to find anything else that could be thrown in the stew pot.

_Why are you searching for leaves when you already have meat?_

_Because it'll taste better if I put some other things in as well._

_But you already have meat._

_Yes... I know Flayme._

_I don't understand._

_Of course you don't…_

_What?_

_Humans like their food to taste like more than just meat. We like spices and herbs in our food. It tastes better to us._

_That is ridiculous._

_You want to try some? You might like it._

_Never. I am not a green-eating dragon. Have you ever heard of such a thing?_

_No, I have not, _she admitted. After a bit of scrounging she found some springtime amanita mushrooms that only grew from mid-winter into spring, they were a welcome sight. _Ha!_ Mariah smirked, plucking as many as she could find and tucking them into her bag. She paused and pulled the first handful back out, looking over them more closely. They were all solid white, no hint of brown, orange or pink at all. _Damnit._ She mumbled, chucking them back on the ground and grinding them under her boot. _Death angels._

_What?_

_They're poisonous._

_That would have been bad, I'm glad you caught them so quickly darling._

_Me too,_ she said, looking some more. Finally, she found some real springtime amanitas, double-checking as she went to make sure they weren't the poisonous ones. She simply avoided all the ones that were pure white. It took longer to get as many as she wanted since the smaller, younger ones were clearly identifiable, but didn't care, so long as they were safe to eat.

_What else are you looking for?_

_Herbs._ She said simply, finding a few patches of cow parsley. Once that was tucked away, she stumbled across some nettle by accident. _I hate those things._ She thought.

_What?_

_Nettle. They taste good but… so prickly… _She decided that the food would taste better if she bothered to pick them and hurriedly pulled on her gloves to do so. After she was done, she shoved another handful into her pocket. _Nettles in a pocket will keep you safe from lightning and spread courage._

_I doubt it._

Mariah ignored her dragon and headed back to camp, wishing she had some sort of vegetable to put in the pot as well. _Wait. Did Brom pack his saddlebags with food?_ She didn't wait for an answer from her dragon, simply going over to the bag and pulling out a carrot and a potato. _I wish I would have known about these sooner. _

_You have them now._

"I suppose," she said, finding her knife and cutting them both up into chunks, throwing them into the pot with the herbs and putting the lid on. "There." Mariah let out a breath and sat back, relaxing finally and letting the day pass her by.

"Urgals!"

She jumped, waking up suddenly to Eragon shouting. Mariah twisted to look at him and then huffed. "Look at that, you're awake…"

"How… what…"

"We stopped for the night after Saphira picked you up because you blacked out. We've been here for two days. Good afternoon, glad you could join us back in the land of the living." Mariah said, standing up.

He moved to get up as well and she hurried over. "But-"

"No." She insisted, shoving him back down. "You've been passed out for who knows how many hours and all of a sudden are gonna get up. No. I don't think so."

"…can I at least have some food?"

"Fine." Mariah said, letting him sit up, slowly, and getting him some food. The fire was still going, but barely, so she threw another piece of wood over the hot coals and gave him a bowl with a spoon. "Be careful, it's hot. Don't scarf it down."

He ate slowly, aware she was watching him. "What?"

"I'm just glad you're alive." She admitted, yawning.

"You can sleep you know."

"I'm not tired."

"You just yawned," he said pointedly.

"So what?"

"You're tired."

"I'm not tired," she repeated.

"Fine." Eragon said, sitting and eating his food.

_I'm going out hunting. _Flayme said, stretching and getting up.

_Alright, _she stretched out on the ground nearby, taking in the sunlight as he flew off.

When she woke up to a horse whinny, she realized her dragon was still gone, but for that matter, so was Eragon. She jumped to her feet, panic stricken. Then she realized she was unharmed, as was the rest of camp. Once over her initial shock, Mariah started biting her tongue. "Stupid boy, wandering off. I'm going to murder him…"

Aluora trotted into the clearing with Mark on her back, looking around. "Where's he at?"

She could hear Saphira's wings beating from a ways off, returning with Brom, "I don't know…" she growled out, picking up her sword and tying it to her belt. A second later, said boy came busting out of the woods. Mariah blinked and threw her scabbard down, stalking over while pointing a finger at him.

He was looking past her at Brom. "What happened?"

"What happened?" roared the old man. "I've been trying to clean up your mess!" He slashed the air with the sword, flinging drops of blood along its arc. "Do you know what you did with that last little trick of yours? Do you?"

"I stopped the Urgals from catching you," said Eragon, a pit forming in his stomach.

"Yes," growled Brom, "but that piece of magic nearly killed you! You've been sleeping for two days. There were twelve Urgals. _Twelve!_ But that didn't stop you from trying to throw them all the way to Teirm, now did it? What were you thinking? Sending a rock through each of their heads would have been the smart thing to do. But no, you had to knock them unconscious so they could run away later. I've spent the last two days trying to track them down. Even with Saphira and Mark, three escaped!"

Mariah glanced at her brother and he nodded, sighing as he dismounted his horse. Mark busied himself with unbuckling her saddle.

"I didn't want to kill them," said Eragon, feeling very small.

"It wasn't a problem in Yazuac."

"There was no choice then, and I couldn't control the magic. This time it just seemed… extreme."

"Extreme!" cried Brom as Flayme landed back in the clearing, licking his muzzle. "It's not extreme when they wouldn't show you the same mercy. And why, oh why, did you _show _yourself to them?"

"You said that they had found the dragons' footprints. It didn't make any difference if they saw us," said Eragon defensively.

Brom stabbed his sword into the dirt and snapped, "I said they had _probably _found the tracks. We didn't know for certain. They might have believed they were chasing some stray travelers. But why would they think that now? After all, _you landed right in front of them!_ And since you let them live, they're scrambling around the countryside with all sorts of fantastic tales! This might even get back to the Empire!" He threw his hands up. "You don't even deserve to be called a Rider after this, _boy._" Brom yanked his sword out of the ground and stomped to the fire. He took a rag from inside his robe and angrily began to clean the blade.

Eragon was stunned for a moment before looking around the clearing, "Mariah did it too!" He pointed at her. "You didn't say anything to her. You insult me for showing myself, but she showed herself too. She didn't even try to stop me; she went right along with it."

Her dragon growled slightly at him, his teeth barred, still bloody from hunting. Mariah stared at him, appalled. "I can't believe you just said that. I've been awake for the past two days," she said, stalking over to him, "unlike you. What makes you think that I haven't already been chewed out over," she prodded him in the chest hard with her fingers, "and over and over by the two of them? I cannot believe you just said that. You… you-"

Mark wrapped an arm around her waist, putting his other hand over her mouth and picked her up, carrying her away from the boy before she said or did something she'd regret later.

After a while of Brom cleaning his sword and Mark keeping his sister busy with the horses, Eragon hesitantly went to the fire and asked, "Would it help if I said I was sorry?"

Mariah spun, ready to snap at him but her brother held her back again.

Brom sighed and sheathed his clean sword. "No, it wouldn't. Your feelings can't change what happened." He jabbed his finger at Eragon's chest, the action clearly something Mariah was used to and had picked up on. "You made some very bad choices that could have dangerous repercussions. Not the least of which is that you almost died. Died, Eragon! From now on you're going to have to thing. There's a reason why we're born with brains in our heads, not rocks."

Eragon nodded, abashed. "It's not as bad as you think, though; the Urgals already knew about us. They had orders to capture us."

Astonishment widened Brom's eyes. He looked back at Mariah, "You never mentioned this."

"I… I forgot, I was a little focused on making sure he wasn't dead," she pointed at him, glaring. Eragon winced, adverting his gaze from her. "

He stuck his unlit pipe in his mouth. "No, it's not as bad as I thought. It's worse. Saphira told me you had talked with the Urgals, but she didn't mention this." The words tumbled out of Eragon's mouth as he quickly described the confrontation. "So they have some sort of leader now, eh?" questioned Brom.

Eragon nodded.

"And you just defied his wishes, insulted him, and attacked his men?" Brom shook his head. "I didn't think it could get any worse. If the Urgals had been killed, your rudeness would have goen unnoticed, but now it'll be impossible to ignore. Congratulations, you just made enemies withone of the most powerful beings in Alagaësia."

"All right, I made a mistake," said Eragon sullenly.

"More than one. Yes, you did," agreed Brom, eyes flashing. "What has me worried, though, is who this Urgal leader is."

"We should have mind searched one of the Urgals before we killed them all," Mark said, walking over, folding his arms across his chest. "Would have been a good idea to get some information out of them."

"Did you have an opening to mind search them? I know I didn't."

He sighed, nodding, "You're right. Would have ended with one or both of us dead…"

"What happens now?" Eragon asked.

There was an uncomfortable pause. Mariah had joined them, but was obviously ignoring Eragon as she put Mark between them, looking up at her grandfather.

"Your arm is going to take at least a couple of weeks to heal. That time would be well spent forging some sense into you. I suppose this is partially my fault. I've been teaching you _how_ to do things, but not whether you _should._ It takes discretion, something you obviously lack. All the magic in Alagaësia won't help you if you don't know when to use it."

Mark smirked, covering his face and coughing to cover it up.

"But we're still going to Dras-Leona, right?" asked Eragon, ignoring Mark.

Brom rolled his eyes. "Yes, we can keep looking for the Ra'zac, but even if we find them, it won't do you any good until you've healed. Are you well enough to ride?"

"I think so."

"Good, then we can still cover a few miles today on horseback."

Mark moaned a bit, "I just finished unsaddling Aluora." He mumbled and walked back to her, re-dressing her saddle.

The other two found Cadoc and Snowfire picketed by the grass where Brom had left them the day before. Mariah went to follow, planning on saddling Cadoc since Eragon's wrist was still broken. Then she stopped, biting her cheek, turning on her heel and saddling Flayme. Once that was done, she helped Mark pack up camp, putting out the fire. She went back to her dragon, hoisting herself up into the saddle. He walked forward and flexed his wings, stretching, allowing Mariah excessive amounts of time to glare at her friend before he shot upward into the sky.

Her brother shook his head, mounting his horse and wheeling her around towards the other two. "Let's get moving, shall we?"

As they rode, every bump and dip in the trail made Eragon grit his teeth with discomfort. Mark snickered at him constantly, finally having to just ride ahead of the boy to stop laughing. If Eragon had been alone, he would have stopped. With Brom and Mark, he dared not complain. It was open invitation for the younger man to laugh at him. In a short while, Brom started drilling him with difficult scenarios involving Urgals, magic, and Saphira. The imagined fights were many and varied. Sometimes a Shade or other dragons were included. Brom would tell him to answer, then Mark, not saying anything in between. Mark was usually right. Eragon got most of the questions wrong and became increasingly frustrated.

When they stopped for the night, Brom grumbled shortly at him, "It was a start."

Eragon lowered his head slightly and went to lay down by Saphira. He looked up as Flayme landed nearby, letting his Rider off his back. She looked over at Eragon, making eye contact before walking over to her brother, sitting and talking with him.

"You're still hating him."

"Yes."

"Why? He didn't do anything. He was upset…"

"It was cruel of him to say that. He purposely tried to get me in trouble."

"Only because he thought the punishment wasn't equal."

"It was his fault."

"You did go along with it."

"I've already been ridiculed about it by both of you. Several times."

"I know, but he didn't."

She huffed, not having another rebuttal.

"Stop it."

"No. He said it, not me. I'm not going to do anything."

"You want him to apologize? What's that going to do? Sorry never fixed anything."

"I don't care."

He sighed, ruffling up her hair a bit. "I think you're stressed out and getting cranky."

"I am not," she muttered, shoving his hand off.

Mark smirked, "You are too." He let out a sharp whistle, looking over at Eragon, flicking a finger for him to come over. When the boy didn't move Mark snapped, "Move!"

He jumped and hurried over, mostly scared of Mariah. But he was more afraid of her brother. "What?"

"Mark, this is just stupid."

"Apologize. Now." He said to Eragon.

The blond blinked, looking down at Mariah and sighing. "I'm sorry. I… I didn't mean to get you upset. I was frustrated and annoyed. I should never have said any of that."

"No. You shouldn't have. But you did."

"I know…" he sighed, closing his eyes, looking ashamed.

"…fine, just go to sleep." She insisted, putting her face in her hands, "Before you break something else…"

He blinked, looking at her. "Thanks 'riah…" He said quietly, walking back to Saphira, trying not to hurt his already broken wrist.

"See, not so hard." Mark said, wrapping an arm around his sister's shoulders, pulling her in for a hug. "He's alright you know… not dead. You take good care of him Mariah. Don't stress out so much. He'll be more careful now I think. Maybe he'll even be the one watching out for you instead of the other way arou-" He looked down, seeing her asleep. Mark chuckled a bit, smiling at her, kissing the top of her head before laying her down. He stayed up, talking with Brom until they both were too tired to hold their eyes open.

* * *

This chapter took me a lot longer. Holidays and friends I haven't seen in six months got in the way. I liked writing this chapter. A lot of it was my own again, and after so much information filled parts in Teirm, I felt like I could breathe again and take some time to myself, finally.

This chapter is 4,000+ words. Up til now, they've only been 3,000+ and I'm so very excited.

With Love, As Always,

Mariah


	24. Ch 23: Master Apprentice

**Chapter Twenty-Three: Master Apprentice**

Over the following weeks they traversed the Spine and as the snow melted into spring, Mariah found herself listless. Flying was starting to become monotonous, for every day Eragon would ride Cadoc alongside Brom, who was insistent upon teaching the boy anything and everything he felt that there was need to know. Mark wasn't about to fly either and most of the time she could see him scouting ahead of the other two with Aluora, mostly trying to get out of Brom's way while he was busy teaching. More than once he'd been shouted at for interrupting. There were very few breaks. At night, when they would stop to rest Brom would continue teaching Eragon, though in swordsmanship instead of magic and strategy.

"If I have to hear either of them say 'gëuloth du knífr' one more time, I'm going to walk over and stab them both myself," she muttered, wriggling a loose scale on Flayme's neck and prying it out.

_He does need the training though, and it is prime opportunity for Brom to teach him left-handed since his right is broken still._

_I don't really care... _

_Yes you do. It will be good for him to be able to defend himself with both hands._

_Yes, it will._ She agreed, still hostile. _However, I am very tired of being ignored by them all. Brom is too busy teaching; Eragon is too tired from learning; and Mark… is… _

_Simply not seeing your suffering?_

_No, he sees it. He's just still mad at me from earlier. _

_He doesn't have a lasting scar from that fight, why is he still upset?_

_I hurt his feelings obviously…_

_Ah, I see now._

She shook her head, hugging her dragon around his throat. "I want this to be over soon… I'm tired of it."

"Stop yer moaning and come eat some food, will ya?" Mark asked, stretching a bit.

Mariah turned and walked over to him, punching him in the arm as she passed before sitting down in front of the fire. He followed, rubbing his arm. Glancing up, he saw Eragon and Brom still fighting.

"Oh, watch. This is where he loses." Mark smirked, watching the movements. In a quick flurry of attacks, Brom managed to throw Zar'roc from Eragon's hand. "Ha!"

The blond looked over, "Shut up Mark!" He muttered and went to retrieve his blade.

"I still don't think it's fair that he gets a Rider's sword…" Mariah insisted as Brom joined them.

"I gave Eragon Zar'roc because he needed a strong weapon. You are a good sword fighter already, and you also know how to use your magic well. You didn't have need for it as much as he did."

"Did?"

"He is much better now," Brom nodded. Eragon grinned and sat down nearby. "However, he is still foolish and not as well trained as either of you, therefore he keeps the sword." With that settled, he dove into his food.

She felt a nudge from her brother's elbow and sighed, glaring over at him. "I think it sounds fair. Think of it this way. It'll either keep him safe or he'll die trying to use it, right? So, if he dies, you can have it."

"Great." She said flatly.

Eragon blinked, looking over at them. "What was that?"

"Nothing," Mark said, smiling at him.

"No. No it wasn't 'nothing' – you never smile at me! Unless it means you're about to do something terrible to me."

"I won't hurt ya… now."

"Stop it."

"Whatcha gonna do about it Eragon? Nothin', that's what, now shut up and eat your dinner."

He mumbled, but otherwise did as he was told.

* * *

Late the next afternoon Mariah could see a large, silver lake spanning across the horizon. _Leona Lake, if I'm not mistaken._

_That is where Brom said we were headed. _Flayme nodded his head slightly as he flew towards the water. Glancing downward, Mariah saw the boys on their horses press harder, speeding along. _They think they're going to make it before nightfall. Horses don't run that fast…_

_Don't bother racing, we'll make it ahead of them anyways._

Before long the sun had completely set, encapsulating them all in darkness.

_I can see better in the darkness._

_You don't seem to be flying any better._

He snorted, _You don't believe me?_

_No._

_Then that is your choice._ Flayme grunted and suddenly dove, snapping his jaws towards a hawk as it circle to catch mice in the night. The bird let out a caw and abruptly changed course, sweeping past Mariah's head, catching her hair on the wind draft.

She chuckled, _Alright, so you can see in the dark. Not that it matters, the moon is rising now._

As Flayme circled the moonlight flooded over the fields of Alagaësia. Leona Lake looked like a thin sheet of silver beaten over the land. The water was so calm and smooth it did not even seem to be liquid. Aside from a bright strip of moonlight reflecting off the surface, it was indistinguishable from the ground. He landed, allowing Mariah off his back. She removed his saddle and the bags, placing them on the ground.

_I am going into the water; would you care to come along?_

_No thank you, that water is going to be freezing. Go on without me this time._

He snorted and launched into the lake without warning, joining Saphira. Mariah yawned and sat down on the sand and watched the dragons splash about, slipping in and out of the water, using their powerful tails to guide them around. When the boys arrived on their horses, Saphira was on the rocky shore, fanning her wings to dry them.

Mark hopped down from his saddle and sighed, looking over at his sister, asleep in the sand. "Couldn't even find a decent spot to pass out in… c'mon, let's set up camp before it gets any later."

Brom nodded, helping him. As soon as they were finished, Mark rolled out a few blankets and returned to his sister, picking her up carefully, sand falling from the creases in her clothing. He set her back down gently near the dragons, both curled up sound asleep. Stretching, he glanced around once to take in the surroundings best he could before laying down and getting some rest.

Most of the next day, Eragon and Saphira swam around in the lake. Flayme joined them from time to time, but spent most hours sunbathing on a rocky patch of ground. Mariah watched for a while, however when Brom said something to Mark about a magic spar, she immediately ran to join them.

"What?"

Mark blinked, "You heard that from all the way over there?"

"Yeah."

He sighed and turned back to their grandfather. "Ignoring Mariah for a moment…"

"Naturally," he smiled a bit at Mariah before continuing their conversation. "It might be a good idea. Just in case we run into some magical trouble. Swords work well most of the time, however in the event of something unexpected, it would be good to be prepared."

"Yes, of course." Mark removed his cloak, draping it over Aluora before tugging off his leather jerkin. He tossed it on the ground before stretching a bit.

"Why do you bother doing that?" Mariah asked.

"Doing what?"

"Taking off your outer clothes, it seems to me like you'd want a few layers of protection. Instead of just your tunic…"

"It slows me down," he said, folding his arms. "And I overheat."

"Ah… kay." She shrugged and went to sit on a rock.

"I would find a safer place to observe darling," Brom said, looking over at her. "In a tree perhaps?"

She chuckled and turned around to find an easily accessible tree, planting her foot in the gap on the trunk and launching herself upward, catching a branch and pulling up into the leaves. She sat down and tucked one ankle under the other. "Better?"

"Yes, you are much less likely to get hit up there."

"Not that we'd do it on purpose you know," Mark added.

"Thanks for your concern, brother."

He smiled a bit and turned to face Brom, only to come face to face with a stream of flames. Mark twisted to the side, ducking, pushing off the ground and towards the old man, throwing his right hand out in front of him. "Huildr älfr kalfya!"

For a moment it seemed Brom was rooted to the spot, Mark rushing towards him, however after that moment, he was moving again, circling around the young man and performing another silent spell.

Mark was thrown through the air and landed hard on his back. It took a second for him to regain his breath, however a soon as he could breathe he was mumbling under his breath. Mariah couldn't pick up on it and folded her arms, waiting for something to happen.

"It seems it's proving difficult for you to fight me without me speaking my words aloud." Brom smirked as Mark moaned, standing up, his concentration broken.

"Adurna, rïsa lam iet un malthinae unin böllr." He said, the water from the stream nearby shooting towards his hand, encircling it before it condensed on his palm to the size of an apple. "Adurna, frjósa." The orb immediately iced over and hardened. Mark smirked, "Svell, thrysta!" The ice ball flew from his hand straight towards Brom. With a smooth, unconcerned movement of his hand, the orb shattered a few feet from him, the shards exploding into snow before casually drifting to the ground.

"Good. Now it's my turn." He threw another fiery stream towards Mark.

"Skölir eka fra brisingr!" The words dripped from his mouth smoothly, just before the flames reached him, hitting his invisible shield before dissipating. He panted slightly, his hand shaking. Mark slammed his fist onto his thigh before straightening again, sweat dripping from his forehead. "Thrysta vindr um älfr."

There was a choking noise and Brom coughed a few times, turning slightly blue. Worried, Mark let go of his magic and let out a pained groan, feeling drained.

Brom rubbed his throat slightly, smiling at Mark. "That was pretty good… you lasted quite a while."

"I wasn't expecting you to be silent the whole time. It's more difficult without speaking it aloud… it threw me off."

"You need to expect everything though… not just what you already know." Brom coughed once more, clearing his throat. "I couldn't think after you started cutting off my air supply."

"Really?"

"Yes, that was good judgment. I'm going to refuse to fight you from now on… can't have you choking me during every duel now can we?"

"I suppose not," he chuckled, running his fingers through his hair, shaking his head to get the sweat away.

"Dry off, and then go jump in the lake. If you dive in now, you'll surely catch cold." Mariah hopped down from her tree branch and smiled at him. "You did a good job, though I could have lived without the snow."

"Sorry…" he said, smiling and doing as she suggested. He returned with Eragon who was trying to dry out his clothes while he had them on still. Mark was completely dry, clearly having taken his clothing off before diving in the water. He glanced over, pitying the boy and flicking a hand towards him. "Reisa du adurna un malthinae." The water pulled from Eragon's clothes and condensed before falling to the ground around him.

He stopped shivering and glanced at Mark, "Thanks." Mark shrugged and went to sit by the fire. "Are we eating soon?"

"As soon as we spar…" Brom said.

Eragon simply picked up Zar'roc and uttered a spell as he ran his fingers along the side of the blade, "Gëuloth du knífr." When he was finished, he looked up. Mariah shook her head, sitting down near her brother to watch.

"Good luck… you need it with that splint still on."

"Thanks Mariah." He sighed.

"He is getting pretty good with his left though you know…" Mark pointed out, putting his elbow on his knee, leaning his chin into his palm.

Neither he nor Brom moved as they waited for the other to strike first. Eragon inspected their surroundings for anything that might give him an advantage. A stick near the fire caught his attention.

Eragon swooped down, grabbed the stick, and hurled it at Brom. The splint got in his way, though, and Brom easily sidestepped the piece of wood. The old man rushed forward, swinging his word. Eragon ducked just as the blade whistled over his head. He growled and tackled Brom ferociously.

They pitched to the ground, each struggling to stay on top. Eragon rolled to the side and swept Zar'roc over the ground at Brom's shins. Brom parried the blow with the hilt of his sword, then jumped to his feet. Twisting as he stood, Eragon attacked again, guiding Zar'roc through a complex pattern. Sparks danced from their blades as they struck again and again. Brom blocked each blow, his face tight with concentration. But Eragon could tell that he was tiring. The relentless hammering continued as each sought an opening in the other's defenses.

Then Eragon felt the battle change. Blow by blow he gained advantage; Brom's parries slowed and he lost ground. Eragon easily blocked a stab from Brom. Veins pulsed on the old man's forehead and cords bulged in his neck from the effort.

Suddenly confident, Eragon swing Zar'roc faster than ever, weaving a web of steel around Brom's sword. With a burst of speed, he smashed the flat of his blade against Brom's guard and knocked the sword to the ground. Before Brom could react, Eragon flicked Zar'roc up to his throat.

_That's the second time he's been beaten tonight. _Flayme noted, snorting, having started watching when Eragon began winning.

_I… I can't believe he won… one handed too._

_His left as well. Hmpf... you'll have to spar with him after his wrist is healed. I'd like to see which of you the better swordsman is. _

_Clearly, he is, if we're speaking only of swordsMEN. _

_My apologies darling, swordsmaster._

_He probably wouldn't have won if grandfather hadn't trained with Mark earlier…_

_I don't know about that love._

_Really?_

_It looked to me like he would have won either way._

_I don't think so._

_Think what you want, but I'm sure you'll see it happen again before long…_

Mariah looked back, seeing both of them standing there panting. The red sword tip was resting on Brom's collarbone. Eragon slowly lowered his arm and backed away. It was the first time he had bested Brom without resorting to trickery. Brom picked up his sword and sheathed it. Still breathing hard, he said, "We're done for today."

"But we just started," said Eragon, startled.

Brom shook his head. "I can teach you nothing more of the sword. Of all the fighters I've met, only a handful of them that could have defeated me like that, and I doubt any of them could have done it with just their left hand."

Mark glanced at his sister, looking annoyed.

"Have you ever fought with him with only your left hand? No, shut up." Mariah said, poking him in the side.

Brom chuckled at them, looking back at Eragon, his expression rueful. "I may not be as young as I used to be, but I can tell that you're a talented and rare swordsman."

"Does this mean we're not going to spar every night?" asked Eragon.

"Oh, you're not getting out of it," laughed Brom. "But we'll go easier now. It's not as important if we miss a night here or there." He wiped his brow. "Just remember, if you ever have the misfortune to fight an elf – trained or not, female or male – expect to lose. They, along with dragons and other creatures of magic, are many times stronger than nature intended. Even the weakest elf could easily overpower you. The same goes for the Ra'zac – they are not human and tire much more slowly than we do."

"Is there any way to become their equal?" asked Eragon. He sat cross-legged by Saphira.

Brom seated himself with a shrug. "There are a few, but none are available to you now. Magic will let you defeat all but the strongest enemies. For those you'll need Saphira's help, plus a great deal of luck. Remember, when creatures of magic actually use magic, they can accomplish things that could kill a human, because of their enhanced abilities."

"How do you fight with magic?" asked Eragon.

Mark coughed, covering his mouth. Glancing over at him, Mariah jammed her elbow into his ribs.

"What do you mean?"

"Well," he said, leaning on an elbow. "Suppose I was attacked by a Shade. How could I block his magic? Most spells take place instantaneously, which makes it impossible to react in time. And even if I could, how would I nullify an enemy's magic? It seems I would have to know my opponent's intention _before_ he acted." He paused. "I just don't see how it can be done. Whoever attacked first would win."

Brom sighed. "What you are talking about – a 'wizards' duel', if you will - is extremely dangerous. Haven't you ever wondered how Galbatorix was able to defeat all of the Riders with the help of only a dozen or so traitors?"

"I never thought about it," acknowledged Eragon.

Mariah sighed, rubbing her face, knowing this conversation was going to last the remainder of the evening.

"There are several ways. Some you'll learn about later, but the main one is that Galbatorix was, and still is, a master of breaking into people's minds. You see, in a wizards' duel there are strict rules that each side must observe or else both contestants will die. To begin with, no one uses magic until one of the participants gains access to the other's mind."

"Why wait? By the time an enemy realizes that you've attacked, it will be too late for him to act."

Mark moaned a bit, shaking his head, cutting in. "No, it won't. If I were to suddenly use my power against you, Eragon, you would surely die, but in the brief moment before you were destroyed, there would be time for a counter–attack. Therefore, unless one combatant has a death wish, neither side attacks until one of them has breached the other's defenses."

"Then what happens?" Eragon inquired.

Brom shrugged and said, "Once you're inside your enemy's mind, it's easy enough to anticipate what he will do and prevent it. Even with that advantage, it's still possible to lose if you don't know how to counteract the spells."

He filled and lit his pipe. "And that requires extraordinarily quick thinking. Before you can defend yourself, you have to understand the exact nature of the forces directed at you. If you're being attacked with heat, you have to know whether it is being conveyed to you though air, fire, light, or some other medium. Only once that's known can you combat the magic by, for instance, chilling the heated material."

"It sounds difficult."

"Extremely," confirmed Brom. A plume of smoke rose from his pipe. "Seldom can people survive such a duel for more than a few seconds. The enormous amount of effort and skill required condemns anyone without the proper training to a quick death. Once you've progressed, I'll start teaching you the necessary methods. In the meantime, if you ever find yourself facing a wizards' duel, I suggest you run away as fast as you can."

"Or wait til I show up to save your sorry ass." Mark added standing, stretching and cracking his neck. Before Eragon could argue with him he continued, "I'm going to sleep. See you in the morning."

"Night Mark," Mariah said.

He reached down, ruffled up her hair and walked over by Aluora, flopping on a blanket. She smiled, looking over at Brom and Eragon. Moving over next to Saphira, she looked at Eragon.

"How's your arm?"

"Itching… I just wanna rip the splint off."

"You have to wait til Brom says it's okay."

"I know," he sighed.

"You did well sparring tonight. I was impressed. Never imagined you could beat Brom in a sword fight."

"Really?" Eragon asked, grinning.

"C'mon, you have to admit it would have seemed impossible a few months ago…"

"I suppose, yeah," he nodded. "I'm kinda tired. I'll see you tomorrow Mariah."

"Night Eragon."

"Night."

* * *

I'm using a basic English to Old Norse translator for my Ancient Language if there are extra words I want to use, but have not been produced by the books. The basics of the Ancient Language in The Inheritance Cycle come from Norse and Celtic languages, mainly Old Norse. Chris Paolini took inspiration from Ursula Le. Guinn's _ Earthsea_ novels as well. The site I'm using is FreeLang dot net, in case you're interested. If, for some reason, this translator isn't sufficient, I'll be using Icelandic translator as well.

Gëuloth du knífr! – Dull the knife.

Huildr älfr kalfya! - Hold his calves!

Adurna, rïsa lam iet un malthinae unin böllr. - Water, rise to my hand and bind into an orb.

Adurna, frjósa. - Water, freeze.

Svell, thrysta! - Ice, thrust!

Skölir eka fra brisingr! - Shield me from fire!

Thrysta vindr um älfr. - Compress the air around him.

Reisa du adurna un malthinae. – Raise the water and bind together.

Lots and lots of words this time. Sorry it took more than a week to upload. I was having some computer problems, but I'm back online!

With Love, As Always,

Mariah


	25. Ch 24: Fox Fur

**Chapter Twenty-Four: Fox Fur**

"No way in hell Mariah's going past those gates." Mark insisted, folding his arms.

Mariah blinked, looking past him. She had her arms around his waist as they rode Aluora. After getting closer to Dras-Leona, Flayme and Saphira had to hide during the day as to not be seen by passers-by. "What?" She let go of his waist as he hurriedly dismounted, leaving her on the horse.

Gripping his she-horse's reins tightly in his right hand, Mark said, "No."

"It'll not be any different if you spend the night out here with bandits prowling about." Brom said.

"Yes it will. Between me, Saphira and Flayme she's got a much better chance of not getting kidnapped, beaten, mugged, raped! If you think for one second I'm letting my little sister go into that city you've completely lost your mind old man." The wind picked up, whipping his hair around as he glared at his grandfather.

Brom blinked at him. Eragon was openly gaping at his hostility, not quite able to process it.

"Mark-" his sister started.

"You don't have a choice. I'm making it for you. Be quiet." He snapped, staring down his grandfather.

Finally, Brom nodded. "Alright. You stay with the dragons then. Eragon can contact Saphira and she can relay any messages we might have for you. You can do the same."

"Good."

He looked over the young man again and smiled a bit. "C'mon Eragon, let's get going." He spurred Snowfire and headed off.

"Mariah-" started Eragon.

"Hurry up Eragon," she said, looking over at him. "Don't do anything… reckless."

He looked as if he wanted to say something else, but bit his tongue and hurried Cadoc after Brom.

"I'm sorry Mariah," said Mark. "I had a hard enough time with it when we were in Teirm. Dras-Leona is the worst place in the country, besides the capital… possibly worse, if you discount Galbatorix. I don't want you getting hurt… Flayme can't even come help you if you get in trouble either…" With that, he tugged at Aluora's reins and started for the woods where the dragons were hiding. He pulled his hood up with a shuddering hand and continued on.

"Thanks Mark… for being so concerned…" she said quietly, holding onto the saddle.

He said nothing, stopping once Flayme was in sight and helping her off the horse. Before setting up camp, he hugged his sister tightly, sighing.

She blinked, glancing up at his face, still slightly contorted with unease. Finally, Mark let go and busied himself with making a fire.

"How about we catch something for dinner?"

"Sure," he said, nodding and picking up his bow. While in Teirm, he'd purchased a new one, knowing it would be beneficial to have another in the event of Eragon's breaking.

Mariah pulled her cloak around her tightly and started off into the woods, Mark on her heels. They stayed down wind and slowly crept through the trees, trying to find anything that would make a decent meal. After some searching, Mark spotted an opossum. He glanced at his sister and shrugged.

"I'm not eating that."

"You wouldn't even know it was one if I had already skinned and gutted it." He argued, drawing an arrow back on his bow. A moment later however, before he could fire, a silvery black fox appeared, jumping out of the bushes and pouncing atop the juvenile creature. Mark snapped his bow, piercing through the throat of the fox. "Two for one," he smirked at his sister who had her arms folded.

"I like foxes…"

"You'll like it better when it feeds you," he assured, collecting the kill and walking back to camp with her.

She pulled out her hunting knife and started cleaning the opossum. "You get to eat that." She said, finishing and placing the meat on a spit.

"That means you have to eat fox…" he pointed out. "Thought you liked the fox."

"I do. And now I have a new fox skin," she said simply, being more careful when she took the hide off the second animal. The skin was extremely thin on foxes and she didn't want to put rips in it.

"How do you propose to finish that?"

"We're going to be out here for a few days. I have time." She commented, putting it aside carefully and completing the preparation of her dinner. She started cooking the meat and set to work on the pelt. Turning it inside out, she took her knife and ran it carefully along the skin, scraping off any remaining meat, fat, and membrane. She used a scrap piece of cloth to clean off any excess grease before buffering the skin with an abrasive stone and removing the cartilage from the inside around the ears and face. She went to retrieve the pot from the saddle bags and came back, dumping the fox's brains in and mashing them up best she could, adding some water into the pot to cover them.

"Might as well throw the opossum's in there too, in case you run out." Mark suggested, watching her.

"Good idea," she said, doing so.

"Good thing you don't get queasy easily."

"I wouldn't do it if it was alive."

"I would hope not." He chuckled, "But still…"

She blinked at him, "Are you upset because your sister isn't scared of blood and guts?"

"No. I'm very proud actually, that you have a stronger stomach than most girls."

Mariah shook her head and set the pot over the fire to cook the brains. She cleaned her hands and looked at her brother. "There, that just needs to cook. Now, would you care to spar before we eat?"

"Might as well," he said, standing and stretching, grabbing his sword.

Mariah drew her blade and set aside the sheath, glancing at the dragons who were watching, amused. She waited for her brother and nodded when he stood still, sword drawn, at the ready. After several silent moments, he took one step towards her. Immediately, Mariah ducked, avoiding the blow towards her face and shot behind him, dragging her sword upward along his back, ripping into his tunic. A couple inches closer and she would have slashed right through to his skin.

After fighting for years, they didn't dull their blades. There was no sense in a fight if there wasn't pain involved because when the time came, and they were really in a battle, there would be real pain. No blocked edges of swords. No sibling to stop the fight and heal your wounds. No stopping a fight to go to dinner. The numbness to pain that came from fighting with sharp edges helped in a real fight. When cut, there would be no shirking away in hurt, there would only be the will to continue and shrugging off the wound with the thought of having had worse, by a family member no less.

Mark twisted around, running his sword up the side of her own, turning his hand and trying to pry the blade from her fingers. She tossed the sword from her right to her left, stepping around him again. The easiest way to win a fight was to knock the other's sword away. The quickest was cheating and using magic in a sword fight. The most beneficial was both and the cheap way out was to kill your opponent, but obviously the last option was out of the question.

Mariah jammed her sword toward Mark again, slashing into his shoulder. His face didn't betray his pain, watching her change hands. Pressing harder, he started overpowering her with sheer strength, the only advantage he had over her. Elsewhere, they were evenly matched. She stumbled back, tripping and hitting the ground. Shuffling to try and regain her footing, she fought him off with wide swings of her sword, finally backing into a tree. Mariah propped herself against it and stood. As she did so, Mark stabbed forward, locking his blade into the bark. She twisted around and smacked his waist with the flat of her blade.

He retaliated quickly, pulling his sword back from the tree and swinging his arm around towards her. She scampered back, but not until after he caught her forearm with the tip. Mariah stopped a few feet from him, taking a deep breath and judging that the cut wasn't too deep, waiting. He stepped towards her again and she wheeled around behind him, kicking hard and sweeping her leg to slam into his ankles, forcing him to tumble to the ground. Immediately, she pounced on him, pinning him with the point of her sword at his throat. Smirking, she sat on his chest. "I win."

Mark sighed, tossing his head back to smack against the dirt, "Alright."

"You're no fun tonight."

He said nothing, just laying there. She rolled her eyes, sheathing her sword and healing up her arm. Mariah walked back to him, nudging his torso with her boot. "Get up, your food's done."

After dinner, they simply -rested by the fire, soaking in as much heat as they could.

Saphira snorted from behind them and Mariah twisted around, blinking at her. "What?"

_The two of them explored the city today before resting. Both have been drinking heavily, Eragon's mind is fuzzy to the point where even I cannot think straight._

"A drink sounds lovely right about now," Mark muttered, leaning into his palm, watching Mariah sew his tunic back together. The cut she'd put in it was extensive and taking much more time than she really wanted.

"They're going to feel terrible in the morning."

"As opposed to my feeling terrible now. I don't see the difference, really."

She sighed, "You hate alcohol…"

"Not today I don't."

Mariah chucked his shirt at him, shaking her head, "Stop it. I don't mind that you lost it today, really. I appreciate your concern."

"Mariah…"

"No, really. I didn't particularly want to go there… everything about it makes my skin crawl. I felt okay with all of you but, honestly feel even better just with you outside the city."

He nodded, tugging his tunic over his head. "I'll stay up for a bit; make sure no one finds us. You want me to work on your fox?"

"Sure, thanks. Good night." She told him, walking over and laying out some blankets before curling up on them.

"Night Mariah." He said, getting the brains off the fire and waiting for them to cool a bit. Once they were warm to the touch, he took the pelt and started rubbing the mess into the skin. When he'd run out of brains, he tucked the fox into a bag, tightening the opening to keep it shut. Mark lay down on the ground and stared upward, connecting stars together as they appeared overhead. Every half hour or so, he checked the pelt until it smelled terrible. "Awful really…" he said. Flayme snorted, trying to get the scent out of his nose and tucked his muzzle under his paw to try and block it.

Mark started stretching it and working it as it dried. He sat by the fire, keeping himself warm as his hands moved, constantly pulling the pelt back and forth gently to avoid tearing. Finally, it began to dry. He worked more quickly, making sure the skin wasn't going to stiffen when it finished drying. Mark ran his fingers over the skin, making sure it had softened properly. He stood, stretching his arms, popping his shoulder after all the pulling. Looking through the saddle bags, he found some rope and returned to the fox pelt, glancing over at his sister, asleep on the ground. He sighed and looped the rope through the eyeholes of the fox and threw the other end of the rope over a branch, hanging it there. He built up a second small fire below it, making sure it smoldered and smoked more than burned. When he was satisfied it was doing well, he sat down near Mariah.

_Thank you for convincing them to let you stay out here, I feel better with her in my sights. _Flayme said to him, flicking his tail tip. _With her in the confines of a city I would worry and be helpless to assist her in the event of trouble. Out here I may eat whomever I please without much worry of them being of importance._

Mark looked over at him and smiled. "Of course. Did you and Saphira eat anything today?"

_I have not, thank you for reminding me. _He said, stretching a bit and standing. _I shall be back shortly. _

"Circle and check for anyone near us, alright? Warn me if there's anything that looks dangerous around. Animals included. The last thing I want is for a pack of wolves to appear and hunt me down while I sleep."

The red-orange dragon inclined his head and shot upward into the air.

* * *

That next evening, Saphira relayed another message from Eragon. _They have seemingly found the Ra'zac's lair. I believe they'll be done in the city soon._

"Great… where is it?"

_Helgrind_.

"Naturally," Mark sighed. "Of course."

She started growling a moment later however, making Mark jump.

Mariah simply started looking concerned. "What is it Saphira?"

_It's nothing,_ she snorted, laying her head on her front paws. _Eragon is being foolish again…_

Throughout the following day, Mariah and Mark sparred as often as possible. They took turns shooting Mark's bow and hunted for their lunch as well. They were stretched out on their blankets after eating.

"We're headed for the Varden you know."

"You've told me this before, yes."

Mark blinked, rolling onto his stomach, "I don't know if Eragon wants to come along."

"What do you mean?" She asked.

"You know exactly what I mean."

The other day when she had been taking off his splint, finally, they had started talking about past injuries. Mariah had broken some of her fingers once in Carvahall when she was little, which had been slightly painful, but not all that inconvenient, not at the time anyway. Eragon had laughed a bit at her, but suddenly turned serious at the mention of home. "I would like to return home, after I've killed the Ra'zac. There's more to life than war," he'd said. The idea that there might be a normal life waiting somewhere seemed impossible. She'd grown up with Brom's stories of Dragons, War and Riders. Now that she was part of that, it seemed impossible to separate from it again. They were bound to this journey now, wherever it led them - to life or death, glory or failure – and she knew that she'd break if Eragon left her to continue on alone. And that stupid splint wouldn't come off.

"Mariah?"

She snapped her head up to look at him. "Sorry…"

"It's alright… what?"

"I… I know what you mean, yes," she nodded. "I hope he doesn't decide to go back home…"

"I don't know how he can," Mark admitted. "It's not safe for him. There's nothing left back there either, for any of us."

"Except memories."

"Painful ones. And memories can be made anywhere, anytime, with anyone."

"I know that Mark."

"Then I just have to convince him," he nodded, smiling a bit, "Got it."

She smiled back a little before jumping as Saphira stood abruptly, snorting ferociously. _They are in trouble._

"What?" Mariah jumped up, tying her sword to her waist, Mark following her movements.

_The Ra'zac have found Eragon. Brom is meeting him at the inn. Then they are going to meet us at the edge of the city. Come, now._ She flew off without further explanation.

Mariah scrambled over to Flayme, pulling herself up into his saddle and holding tight as he followed, Aluora shooting after the dragons on the ground below. They landed just shy of the entrance to the city, Saphira clawing at the ground in irritation.

After waiting several excruciatingly long minutes, the two horsemen finally arrived in full view. Eragon fell off Cadoc, climbing Saphira's back before she flew off. Brom joined Mark and rode as fast as they could away from the gates of Dras-Leona.

Glancing over, Mariah looked at Eragon who seemed extremely pale as he leaned into Saphira's scales. She wished she could hear what he was thinking, but didn't want to pry into his mind at the moment. They flew low and fast over the road. Leona Lake receded behind them; the land became dry and rocky and filled with tough, sharp bushes and tall cactuses. Clouds darkened the sky. Lightning flashed in the distance, making Mariah think of the nettle still in her pocket from several days ago, warding off the lightning. As the wind began to howl, Saphira glided steeply down to Brom and Mark, Flayme quickly following. He stopped the horses and asked, "What's wrong?"

"The wind's too strong."

"It's not that bad," objected Brom.

"It is up there," said Eragon, pointing at the sky.

Brom swore and handed him Cadoc's reins. Mariah was already up behind her brother, holding onto him tightly, burying her face in his back. They trotted away with the dragons following on foot, though on the ground they had difficulty keeping up with the horses.

The gale grew stronger, flinging dirt through the air and twisting like a dervish. They wrapped scarves around their heads to protect their eyes. Brom's robe flapped in the wind while his beard whipped around as if it had a life of its own. Mariah had hers curled around her tightly as she pinned herself behind Mark to shield herself from the weather. Though it would have made them all miserable, they hoped it would rain so their tracks would be obliterated.

Soon darkness forced them to stop. With only the stars to guide them, they left the road and made camp behind two boulders. It was too dangerous to light a fire, so they ate cold food while the dragons sheltered them from the wind.

"How did they find us?" Eragon asked bluntly.

Mark glanced over at them, wondering that himself, wrapping his arm around his sister. Mariah was tucked up against him, trying to stay as warm as possible.

Brom started to light his pipe, but thought better of it and put it away. "One of the palace servants warned me there were spies among them. Somehow word of me and my questions must have reached Tábor… and through him, the Ra'zac."

"I want to know how the hell you two got caught though. Once they knew of you it was probably easy, right?"

"I'm assuming so. Though I wish it wouldn't have happened. It didn't matter much however, because Galbatorix will be there within the week, probably sooner if word of us reaches his ears quickly."

Mark blinked, glancing at Mariah. "If the horses weren't so tired and it wasn't black out, I would suggest we keep moving."

"But it's not, so we have to rest. I am sorry Marcus."

He let out an annoyed growl until Mariah prodded him with her finger.

"Mark. It'll be alright. We'll get out of this…" she insisted, smiling a bit. "Everyone's safe."

"For now. We're going to have the entire city guard after us. The Ra'zac and probably the King's army now too…" Mark sighed.

"We can't go back to Dras-Leona, can we?" asked Eragon, looking away from Mark towards Brom.

Brom shook his head, "Not for a few years."

Eragon held his head between his hands. "Then should we draw the Ra'zac out? If we let Saphira be seen, they'll come running to wherever she is."

Mark was about to snap at him, but stopped when Brom spoke.

"And when they do, there will be fifty soldiers with them," said Brom. "At any rate, this isn't the time to discuss it. Right now we have to concentrate on staying alive. Tonight will be the most dangerous because the Ra'zac will be hunting us in the dark, when they are strongest. We'll have to trade watched until morning."

"I'll take first," Mark said to them. "Since you two've been running all day."

"Right," said Eragon, standing. He hesitated and squinted. He stepped toward the edge of their camp.

"What is it?" asked Brom as he unrolled his blankets.

Eragon stared into the darkness, and then turned back. "I don't know. I thought I saw something. It must have been a bird." The last things Mariah remembered were Saphira roaring and Eragon toppling to the ground in front of her.

* * *

Oh yay, cliff-hanger for the weekend. I'll post the next chapter soon. I promise. - Vel eïnradhin iet ai Shur'tugal.

And yes, I learned how to tan a fox hide just for the story. I kinda really want to try it. Now... where to get a fox hide...

With Love, As Always,

Mariah


	26. Ch 25: Murtagh

**Chapter Twenty-Five: Murtagh  
**

She woke with a headache, blood pooling down her face and into her mouth. Mariah was tied up against her brother, their hands bound together behind their backs; she could feel his labored breathing through his torso. She shifted slightly and pain shot up from her toes all the way to her waist. Her leg felt as though it were on fire. There was a bright light just beyond something lying next to her. Squinting a bit, so as to not hurt her eyes, she focused. "Eragon!"

"Why doesss it keep wearing off them?" hissed a voice.

"It doessn't matter now, leave them be."

She saw Eragon move slightly and felt Mark behind her jerk awake. He gasped a bit and started struggling but stopped once he realized his sister was tied to him. One of the Ra'zac stepped over and kicked Mark hard in the chest, making him gasp and moan with pain.

"She was most cooperative once we threatened to kill you."

Mariah blinked, realizing they were talking to Eragon and looked past them at Saphira. She had a muzzle over her head. Her wings were pinioned to her sides by black chains; there were shackles on her legs. Mariah panicked when she recognized Flayme was nowhere to be seen.

"Yourss was much more… difficult." The Ra'zac moved aside slightly and her eyes widened as she saw her dragon. He was bleeding profusely from deep gashes in his flesh, chained down like Saphira. But instead of a muzzle, he had chains bound around his snout, digging into his scales. She tried to reach out to him, but his mind was clouded. "Eventually he ssstopped…" hissed the Ra'zac. Squatting by the lantern, he rummaged through Eragon's bags first, examining and discarding various items until he removed Zar'roc. "What a pretty thing for one so… insignificant. Maybe I will keep it." He leaned closer to Eragon and sneered, "Or maybe, if you behave, our master will let you polish it."

Then he turned the sword over in his hands and screeched as he saw the symbol on the scabbard. His companion rushed over. They stood over the sword, hissing and clicking. At last they faced Eragon. "You will serve our master very well, yesss."

"If I do, I will kill you." Eragon said thickly, his mouth slightly numb from the drugs.

They chuckled coldly. "Oh no, we are too valuable. But you… you are _disposable_." A deep snarl came from Saphira; smoke roiled from her nostrils. The Ra'zac did not seem to care.

Their attention was diverted when Brom groaned and rolled onto his side. One of the Ra'zac grabbed his shirt and thrust him effortlessly into the air. "It'sss wearing off."

"Give him more."

"Let'sss just kill him," said the shorter Ra'zac. "He has caused us much grief."

The taller one ran his finger down the sword. "A good plan. But remember, the king's instructions were to keep them _alive._"

"We can sssay he was killed when we captured them."

"And what of thisss one?" the Ra'zac asked, pointing his sword at Eragon. "If he talksss? If any of them talksss?" He glanced over at Mariah and Mark.

His companion laughed and drew a wicked dagger. "They would not dare."

There was a long silence, then, "Agreed."

"No!" Mariah wriggled, aware of the throbbing in her leg, and tried to break free of her bonds, but found they were chains, unlike Eragon's. Mark must have tried breaking through them already, she thought. "Don't!"

They dragged Brom to the center of the camp and shoved him to his knees. Brom sagged to one side. She saw Eragon start squirming as well.

"None of that now," said the tall Ra'zac, poking him with a sword. He nosed the air and sniffed; something seemed to trouble him.

She shook more violently as she watched in horror as the other Ra'zac growled, yanked Brom's head back, and swept the dagger toward his exposed throat. Mariah shouted again, tears running down her face, "No! Please don't!"

At that very moment a low buzz sounded, followed by the Ra'zac's howl. An arrow protruded from his shoulder. The Ra'zac nearest Eragon dropped to the ground, barely avoiding a second arrow. He scuttled to his wounded companion, and they glared into the darkness, hissing angrily. They made no move to stop Brom as he blearily staggered upright. "Get down!" cried Eragon.

Brom wavered, then tottered toward Eragon. As more arrows hissed into the camp from the unseen attackers, the Ra'zac rolled behind some boulders. There was a lull, then arrows came from the opposite direction. Caught by surprise, the Ra'zac reacted slowly. Their cloaks were pierced in several places, and a shattered arrow buried itself in one's arm.

With a wild cry, the smaller Ra'zac fled toward the road, kicking Mark viciously in the side yet again as he passed. His companion hesitated, then grabbed the dagger from the ground and raced after him. As he left the camp, he hurled the knife at Eragon.

A strange light burned in Brom's eyes. He threw himself in front of Eragon, his mouth open in a soundless snarl. The dagger stuck him with a soft thump, and he landed heavily on his shoulder. His head lolled limply.

"No!" screamed Eragon, though he was doubled over in pain. They heard footsteps, then his eyes closed. Mariah stared over at Brom, aware of boots coming into her line of vision but not seeing anything but her grandfather, praying he was still alive. Eragon was out and behind her was Mark, twisting and trying to get free of the chains around their wrists.

Finally, after much growling on his part, he merely snapped and shouted, "Jierda!"

The boots took a few surprised steps backward and stopped. Mariah felt a hand on her shoulder and turned her head upwards slightly, looking at her brother's face.

"Get up," he said.

"I can't… my leg." She blinked at him, whispering, "Brom…"

Mark looked over and paled, however didn't move. Mariah couldn't understand why, until she remembered the boots. "Why did you help us?"

"You aren't the only enemies the Ra'zac have. I was tracking them." A male voice said.

"You know who they are?"

"Yes… it looks like the old man is going to bleed to death unless he gets some medical attention."

Mark finally moved away, hurriedly kneeling beside Brom and examining his wounds.

There was a slight crunching sound from beside her and she saw the boots again. Mariah turned her head a little, moving her eyes upward. In one of the mud-caked boots, the hilt of a dagger protruded. Then she saw the scabbard for a hand-and-a-half sword, worn but well taken care of. A white horn bound with silver fittings was hanging beside it from his waist. A bow was in his left hand. His clothes were battered and worn, well traveled. When her eyes reached his face, she was a little surprised. He looked to be the same age as Mark. His aura was calm and assured; his expression was serious, his dark gray eyes, fierce and framed by his brown hair. The man blinked and a moment later, the ferociousness washed away. His eyes softened as he held out his right hand to help her up.

"Let's get you on your feet."

"Who are you?" Mark asked, looking up at him, not wanting him that close to his sister.

"Murtagh," he said simply, steadying Mariah. He found her cloak and wrapped it around her shoulders before helping her sit in front of the fire. She leaned into him as her leg throbbed painfully.

"Flayme." She said quietly, wiping at her face. Murtagh blinked, looking at her, confused.

"The dragon," Mark clarified. He stood, leaving Brom and walking to the dragons, breaking them free of their chains. As soon as Saphira was released, she swept over, guarding Eragon and snarled towards the newcomer.

_I do not trust him._ She announced to Mariah.

She nodded a bit and looked around to find Flayme. She spotted a gray war-horse picketed a ways off that must have belonged to Murtagh.

Mark was healing the wounds as quickly as he could to avoid further blood loss. "We need to heal his wound as well… but I'm worn out now… could you?"

His sister nodded and moved, crawling, for she didn't feel well enough to stand. Flayme shuffled over beside her, lending what strength he had to her own. "Waíse heill." The skin around the wound flowed together as her palm glowed. She fell back a bit; sweat dripping from her forehead, exhausted.

Murtagh was still standing there, watching them, intrigued.

"Are you alright?" Mark asked, moving over beside his sister, placing a hand on her shoulder.

"Fine…"

"Nothing's broken?"

"No… don't think so, you?"

"I'm afraid to look," he admitted. "My limbs seem fine, but I think I have some bruising, at the very least." As if to prove him right, his body shook and forced a cough, blood spattering onto the ground and his hand.

"You're not well, you need help…"

"You can barely hold your eyes open. Rest and regain your strength. It won't do any good if you are hurt more by healing me. That goes for both of us." He said, nodding toward Eragon.

"Alright…" she said, her eyes slipping closed as she passed out on the ground.

"Is she alright?"

"Fine," Mark said, wiping blood from his mouth and standing once more, wincing as pain shot through his body.

"You should probably rest."

"Yeah, right," he said, looking at him. "I don't know you. I don't trust you to kill me and run off with all my belongings."

"You must be joking. I do believe I'm the one who saved your life."

"I don't care," Mark told him. "I'll kill you if you get any closer to me, my sister or the boy, even if it kills me to do so. The dragons will eat you alive and my horse will kick your brains onto the ground. Are we clear?"

"Crystal."

"Good." He said, glaring a bit at him before sitting back down beside Mariah, realizing he wasn't about to go anywhere or do anything to anyone.

"You should probably check your wounds."

Mark ignored him and leaned back against Flayme's side, heaving a breath and coughing up more blood.

A few hours later, Eragon woke. He sat up, noting the fire, Saphira guarding him and the stranger's position opposite the flames. He glanced around, spotted Mark and grunted, "Jierda!"

"I would have done that sooner, but I'm a little worn out…" he admitted, blinking over at the blond as he rubbed his wrists to get his blood circulating again from the rope. "Sorry."

"Who are you?"

"Murtagh." His voice was low and controlled, but curiously emotional. "I would have helped you earlier but your dragon wouldn't let me near you."

"Her name is Saphira."

Murtagh eyed her flatly as he stepped forward. Mark shot him a look. "What do you want me to do, leave him? I will if you're going to kill me over helping."

"Mark, damnit, let him help." Eragon snapped.

He turned his head away, agreeing hesitantly. Murtagh grasped Eragon's arm, gently pulling him to his feet. Eragon yelped and would have fallen without support. They went to the fire where Mariah was asleep and Brom was on his back.

"How is he?"

"Alive," Mark said.

"Bad," Murtagh added, lowering Eragon to the ground. "The knife went right between his ribs. Your companion healed him while you were out. Now let's see how much damage the Ra'zac did to you." He helped Eragon remove his shirt, then whistled. "Ouch!"

"Ouch," agreed Eragon weakly. A blotchy bruise extended down his left side. The red, swollen skin was broken in several places. Murtagh put a hand on the bruise and pressed lightly. Eragon yelled and Saphira growled a warning.

Murtagh glanced at Saphira as he grabbed a blanket. "I think you have some broken ribs. It's hard to tell, but at least two, maybe more. You're lucky you're not coughing up blood." He tore the blanket into strips and bound Eragon's chest.

Mark snorted a bit, doing exactly that, groaning some.

Eragon slipped the shirt back on. "Yes… I'm lucky." He took a shallow breath and glanced at Mark.

He shook his head. "Don't worry about him… we healed him best we could."

"Alright," Eragon said vaguely, closing his eyes. "My… my head… seems to be floating in clouds."

"You probably need to eat," said Murtagh. "I'll make soup." He stood and glanced at Mark, realizing he was about to retaliate. "You don't have to eat it if you think it's poisoned."

He sighed and closed his eyes, ignoring the other man. Beside him, Mariah woke.

"Are you alright?"

She glanced over at Eragon. "You're awake."

"Yeah… you look worn."

"I do feel that way, yes." She said, sitting up and turning towards her brother. "You're coughing… let me see if I can do anything."

"I don't think you can…" he admitted.

She shook her head and stood shakily, grinding her teeth against one another as pain shot up her leg, reaching into her saddlebags and pulling out a small glass vial. "Here…"

"What?"

"It's a potion I got in Teirm… it's supposed to be able to heal wounds." She didn't mention she'd stolen it from Angela.

"Internal ones?"

"It can't hurt to try it…"

Mark sighed a bit, not allowing himself to over think it and down the yellowish liquid in a single swallow. She put the vial back in the bag and settled next to Eragon, looking over at him. He was watching Murtagh with interest. Mariah followed his gaze.

His sword and bow were of the finest make, as was his horn. Either he was a thief, as Mark suspected, or accustomed to money – and lots of it. She wondered why he was hunting the Ra'zac but lost time to think when he returned with a bowl of soup.

"You're awake as well… would you like some?" He asked, handing the bowl to Eragon, who quickly choked it down.

Mark coughed, this time on purpose and stopped her reply. "I need to check if you have any wounds."

She looked over at him and nodded, standing up carefully again, not knowing how many more times she'd be able to successfully do so. Flayme raised his head a bit and shifted his wings. The siblings moved around to the other side of the dragon. He shielded them with his wing, snarling slightly at the other boys.

Mariah let out a sharp hiss as she removed her shirt. There was minor bruising and nothing appeared to be broken. Her leg, however, was swollen. Mark sat her down and removed her boots, running his fingers carefully along her left leg. "I think you tore some muscles and sprained it… I don't know if you'd be walking on it if it was broken. They must have been more careful with you."

"Why, because I'm a girl?"

"I don't know, but you seem to be pretty well off compared to Eragon."

"What?"

"His whole left side is blue and black. He's got a few broken ribs. I'm coughing up blood…" He muttered under his breath and instantly relief flooded over her leg, the pain melting away.

"Thank you."

"It's only temporary. It'll wear off soon enough, but for now maybe you can relax."

She pulled her boots back on and pulled at his shirt a bit, "I have to see the damage. It's only fair and you know it… if there's anything I can heal."

Mark nodded, pulling his tunic off carefully, biting his lip and inhaling sharply as he pulled something.

"You're probably worse off than Eragon." She observed. His entire chest and back was purple and blue. There were broken parts of his skin that were clotting, dribbling nearly dried blood. "I can heal what's on the surface at least…" She said, setting to work. When she'd finished and Mariah had bound his chest with cloth to prevent more harm, he pulled his shirt back on and sighed. "What now?"

"We move. They will be circling around now to find us again, while we are wounded and drained. We can't survive another encounter, Ra'zac, soldiers or bandits."

Mariah nodded, standing carefully, feeling better now that her leg wasn't emitting pain. She knew it was only blocking the pain from her thoughts, but it felt as though it were healed. Walking on it would make it worse, but she decided to risk it in order to move more quickly.

When they came back into view of camp, they saw Murtagh dragging Brom's body onto a litter. The saplings looked fairly strong and the few blankets lashed together seemed like they would hold. "Are you planning on the dragons carrying him?"

Eragon blinked over at them, nodding. "We really do need to keep going… before they return with reinforcements."

Mariah nodded, "Flayme can carry him."

"So it's your dragon," Murtagh said. It wasn't really a question as he looked between her and Mark.

"Yes." She said simply, looking over at Eragon as her dragon picked up the litter carefully, flying off with Brom, Saphira following close behind. "Are we ready?"

He nodded, climbing on Cadoc. Mark helped his sister up on top of Snowfire, since he wasn't being used, minding her leg before mounting Aluora. The blond looked to Murtagh, "Thanks for helping us. You should leave now. Ride as far away from us as you can. You'll be in danger if the Empire finds you with us. We can't protect you, and I wouldn't see harm come to you on our account."

"A pretty speech," said Murtagh, grinding out the fire, "but where will you go? Is there a place nearby that you can rest in safety?"

"No," admitted Eragon, glancing at Mark who was shaking his head.

Murtagh's eyes glinted as he fingered the hilt of his sword. "In that case, I think I'll accompany you until you're out of danger. I've no better place to be. Besides, if I stay with you, I might get another shot at the Ra'zac sooner than if I were on my own. Interesting things are bound to happen around a Rider… especially two."

"I can't allow you to come along," Mark said, wheeling Aluora in front of the other man. "I say no."

"Mark." Mariah called calmly.

He turned in his saddle, looking at his sister. "What now?"

"I want him to come with us." She said.

"What? Did you hit your head?"

"No. He saved us from the Ra'zac, whether that means from our deaths or worse – to Galbatorix himself. We owe him our lives, six fold… you, me, both the dragons… all of us. We're all wounded and in no shape to fight anything off, even wolves. He clearly has good aim with a bow. If nothing else, he can come with us for a day. There is no negotiating."

He blinked at his sister, his lips parted slightly in amazement.

Murtagh was up on his gray war-horse before anything could be said and spurred him towards Mariah. She seemed the least hostile of the bunch.

Growling a bit, Mark leaned over Aluora's neck and whispered in her ear. She flicked her tail once and shot off into the darkness, following the dragons, her white coat shining in the light of the oxbow moon.

They rode swift and silently, reserving what energy they had for the ride and anything unexpected that might turn their way. It was nearing dawn when Flayme intruded on Mariah's thoughts; _It is becoming difficult to continue on carrying Brom. I must rest. There is a pleasant enough cave ahead of where you are, about two miles to the south._

_Very well. I shall relay the message._ Mariah insisted, looking between the boys who were all radiating unease. "We're stopping soon. This way," she said, turning Snowfire towards the hill just being outlined by the rising sun.

Flayme was waiting for them with Saphira at the base of a broad sandstone formation that curved out of the ground like a great hill. Its sides were pocked with caves of varying sizes. Similar domes were scattered across the land. Saphira looked pleased with herself, having flown about to find it. _I have found a cave that can't be seen from the ground. It's large enough for all of us, including the horses. Follow me._ She turned and climbed up the sandstone, her sharp claws digging into the rock.

Mariah blinked, looking at Eragon. "Your dragon found a good hiding place; however, I don't know how in Alagaesia we're going to get the horses up there."

He shrugged a bit and started ahead of them up the hill. As predicted, the horses had difficulty, as their shod hooves could not grip the sandstone. They had to pull and shove the animals for almost an hour before they managed to reach the cave. Aluora took up the rear, content with climbing up herself after a few whispers from her rider. Mariah was walking alongside her, since her leg had started hurting again. Mark was pushing Snowfire in her stead.

The cavern was a good hundred feet long and more than twenty feet wide, yet it had a small opening that would protect them from bad weather and prying eyes. Darkness swallowed the far end, clinging to the walls like mats of soft black wool.

"Impressive," said Murtagh. "I'll gather wood for a fire."

The rest of them hurried over to Brom, Mariah hobbling behind the boys. Mark looked over where the knife had stabbed him and saw no mark from the earlier healing. "There's nothing we can do now but wait and pray he gets better…" he insisted, walking back over to the fire Murtagh had built.

Eragon looked over at Mariah who was holding the old man's hand, nearly in tears. "I don't want him to die…" she whispered, staring at his craggy face.

He sighed a bit, touching her forearm, "C'mon Mariah. You're probably cold… there's a fire now."

She swallowed and went along with him when he moved. Mark made Mariah stay sitting, not wanting her moving since she could finally rest her leg as he and Eragon went to try and get Brom to drink some water. He wouldn't. Frustrated and stymied they returned to the flames and spread out their bedrolls. As Eragon passed out, Mark remained awake, not trusting Murtagh.

"Mark, you need to sleep… please." Mariah begged, I don't remember the last time you slept properly. "I'll stay awake if you're that worried."

He grumbled.

"Mark," she said again, sternly.

"Alright," he agreed. "Alright, I'll rest… but wake me up if there are any problems…"

She sat there, watching him go to sleep before looking at the fire. It startled her to see eyes staring back at her, then she realized Murtagh was awake. "I'm sorry, I didn't mean to wake you."

"I wasn't sleeping," he assured her.

"Oh…"

"He's your brother, correct?"

"Yes. Overprotective, as you can see."

"And is he your brother too?"

"No," she said, "A friend from home."

"Where's home?"

"Far away now," she said to him, sighing. "It seems like forever ago."

"And the old man?"

"Our grandfather," Mariah glanced over towards Brom and sighed. "I hope he lives. I worry that he won't."

"But you healed him."

"Only the exterior of the wound, the inside is still damaged. I do not know how to heal deep injuries like that. I hope to one day soon though. Someone in our company does, desperately. I hate not knowing if someone will be alright or not."

"I'm sure you do not need to worry so much. Whatever happens to him is done," Murtagh said. "You have done what you can for him."

Mariah nodded, sighing a bit.

"You look tired lady, you should sleep. I know it is light out, but it would be wise for you to rest and try and heal your wounds."

"I trust you won't cut my throat as I sleep?" Mariah asked, smiling slightly.

He nodded, "You have my word."

"It would do you well to sleep too." She told him, lying down near her brother.

"I shall, soon."

Mariah closed her eyes, falling right into sleep.

* * *

Waíse heill – be healed

Jierda – Break/hit

Finally, we got to Murtagh. Chapter 25. Took long enough.

I'm glad he's finally here, it's hard not to like him.

Hope you're enjoying the story... if not, I'm confused why you read 25 whole chapters.

I'd love a review, haven't gotten one in a while.

I don't have anyone giving me feedback, so I'd appreciate any that readers could give.

With Love, As Always,

Mariah


	27. Ch 26: A Rider's Legacy

**Chapter Twenty-Six: A Rider's Legacy**

Mark shook her shoulder roughly, "Mariah wake up, now."

She instinctively readied herself to shout at him for waking her in such a way, but the tone in his voice registered before she could do so. Her eyes shot open, looking at him. His blue eyes were wide and his face was pale. Mariah sat up, "What's wrong?"

"Brom," he said, shooting away from her as soon as she was up.

Eragon was running over with him. The old man had rolled off the ledge and was thrashing on the cave floor. His face was contorted in a grimace; his fists were clenched.

"Help me hold him down. He's going to hurt himself!"

Murtagh rushed over to assist them. Mark's white shirt was drenched with sweat already, pain coursing through his body as the struggle to pin his grandfather down worked against his wounds. Together they held him until his convulsions ceased. Then they carefully returned him to the ledge.

Finally, Mariah managed to get up and hobble over to the boys, touching Brom's forehead. "This is my fault… I… I couldn't heal his wound properly. He's catching a fever. Someone get me some water, and a cloth." She sat on a rock, looking Brom over, chewing her lip as she waited. One of the boys returned a moment later, handing her what she'd asked for. She soaked the cloth with cold water and bathed Brom's face, trying to cool him down. The cave was quiet again and the sun was shining.

Abruptly, he moved, his arm lashing outward, gripping the nearest person. Brom's eyes snapped open and fixed a glassy stare on Eragon. "You!" he gasped. "Bring me the wineskin!"

"You shouldn't be drinking at a time like this, you're sick enough." Mark insisted, looking at him.

"Bring it, boy – just bring it…" sighed Brom. His hand slipped from Mariah's arm.

"I'll be right back – hold on." Eragon dashed to the saddlebags and rummaged through them frantically. "I can't find it!" he cried, looking around desperately.

"Here, take mine," said Murtagh, holding out a leather skin.

Eragon grabbed it and returned to Brom. "I have the wine," he said, kneeling. Murtagh retreated to the cave's mouth so they could have privacy.

Mariah leaned in, as Brom's words were faint and indistinct, "Good…" he moved his arm weakly. "Now… wash my right hand with it."

"What-" Eragon started to ask.

"Grandfather-"

"No questions! I haven't time." Mark's eyes widened as Eragon poured the liquid onto Brom's palm. He rubbed it into the old man's skin, spreading it around the fingers and over the back of the hand. "More," croaked Brom. Eragon splashed wine onto his hand again.

Mariah glanced up at her brother, then down at Eragon. Her gaze finally shifted to Brom, whose face was calm. Eragon scrubbed vigorously as a brown dye floated off Brom's palm, then stopped, his mouth agape with amazement. There on Brom's palm was the gedwëy ignasia.

"You're a Rider?"

Mark turned his head, looking at the wall.

"Once upon a time that was true… but no more. Yes, Marcus, you have always known haven't you?"

"I had my suspicions since you started teaching me magic…" he said, swallowing hard as his throat constricted.

Mariah looked at her brother, her lips parted, "You knew?"

"I guessed," he corrected, looking back at Brom finally.

"When I was young… younger than you are now, I was chosen… chosen by the Riders to join their ranks. While they trained me, I became friends with another apprentice… Morzan, before he was a Forsworn." Eragon gasped – that had been over a hundred years ago. "But then he betrayed us to Galbatorix… and the fighting at Doru Araeba – Vroengard's city – my young dragon was killed. Her name… was Saphira."

Everything made perfect sense now. How much Brom had always known about the war, about the Dragons. Mariah stared at him in amazement, tears threatening her vision, realizing for the first time she was seeing the real version of her grandfather. Then she couldn't help but wonder what else he might have been hiding from them all these years.

"I am old… so old. Though my dragon was killed, my life has been longer than most. You don't know what it is to reach my age, look back, and realize that you don't remember much of it; then to look forward and know that many years still lie ahead of you… After all this time I still grieve for my Saphira… and hate Galbatorix for what he tore from me." His feverish eyes drilled into Eragon as he said fiercely, "don't let that happen to you. Don't! Guard Saphira with your life, for without her it's hardly worth living."

"You shouldn't talk like this. Nothing's going to happen to her," said Eragon. Mariah could hear the worry in his voice.

Brom turned his head to the side. "Perhaps I am rambling." His gaze passed blindly over Murtagh, then he focused on Eragon again. Brom's voice grew stronger. "Eragon! I cannot last much longer. This… this is a grievous wound; it saps my strength. I have not the energy to fight it… Before I go, will you take my blessing?"

Mariah was crying fiercely now, choking out, "Grandfather!"

"Everything will be all right," said Eragon, tears in his eyes. "You don't have to do this."

"It is the way of things… I must. Will you take my blessing?"

Eragon bowed his head and nodded, overcome.

She bit her lip and turned her face away, sobbing into her hands.

Brom placed a trembling hand on his brow. "Then I give it to you. May the coming years bring you great happiness." He motioned for Eragon to bend closer. Very quietly, he whispered to Eragon, even with her high level of hearing she couldn't make out the words through her tears. "That is all I can give you… Use them only in great need." His gaze turned toward Mark. "There is much to say, but I am almost out of time…"

"Then we will speak it swift and silently," he insisted, moving over to stand beside him, touching his hand, blinking once to force his tears away.

Finally regaining herself, Mariah looked over. From the look on his face, she could tell Mark was talking with their grandfather telepathically. It was faster and took less strength. She only wished she could hear them. Her breath caught again and more tears started. Mariah sat there for a long while, trying not to think about it. About the fact that Brom was dying right in front of her eyes. That she couldn't heal him well enough to save him.

_Mariah, my dear. _She looked up at Brom who had turned his gaze towards her slightly, not seeing her looking back at him. _It shall be alright. You and your brother are strong. Take care of one another and do what you can to assist Eragon and Saphira. In the world you know, you have but one another. You are both Dragon Riders and you two alone. That bond shall never break, despite everything. You are beautiful and more powerful than most alive, and you are turning into a fine young woman, traits that do not often come together. Remember that you are free to make the choices you wish. Many shall try to tell you otherwise, know that you are stronger than they are, always. I would have you bow to no one, for there is not a person in this wide world that shouldn't kneel before you._

She shook her head, barely able to breathe, only able to think: _Please, don't leave. You don't have to leave yet. I need you._

_No. You have never needed me. _He insisted. _My last request is that you gain everything your heart has ever wanted. Good bye my dear, sweet Mariah. _He blindly turned his eyes to the ceiling. "And now," he murmured, "for the greatest adventure of all…"

They remained there, frozen in their positions. The vigil was unwavering and steadfast, unbroken by food or drink. As the long hours passed, a gray pallor crept over Brom, and his eyes slowly dimmed. His hands grew icy; the air around him took on an evil humor. Powerless to help, they could only watch as the Ra'zac's wound took its toll.

The evening hours were young and the shadows long when Brom suddenly stiffened.

"Please," she gasped out, holding his hand. "Please don't go!" There was nothing they could do.

A barren silence dampened the air, Brom locked his eyes with Eragon's. Then contentment spread across the old man's face, and a whisper of breath escaped his lips. And so it was that Brom the storyteller died.

Mark inhaled quietly and reached over, carefully shutting Brom's eyelids. The dragons raised their heads behind him and roared mournfully at the sky, lamenting the Rider's death. Tears fell from his eyes as he stood, turning around to face the entrance to the cave. He glanced over at his sister, swallowing hard.

Her face was covered with her hands, rivulets of tears rushing down through the cracks in her fingers as her body shook with the force from her sobbing. As the convulsions continued, her breathing became more erratic, unable to properly fill her lungs as the tremors kept rushing through her body. "Mariah…" She didn't quite seem to hear him, choking slightly as she gasped for air. "'riah!" He barked, moving over and grabbing her arm. Her head snapped up, looking at him, her face stained with tears, eyes red and vacant. "Get a hold of yourself…" His eyes searched her face for a moment, cold and calculating, before softening for her. "Stop crying…"

Mariah shook her head slightly as her eyes stopped leaking. "Mark…"

"I know. But crying won't help…" he brushed the tears away from her skin gently and kissed her forehead. "So please… stop."

She closed her eyes and bit her lip, turning her face downward. Mark stood fully again, straightening himself back out.

"We have to bury him." Eragon said rapidly.

Mark nodded, "Of course."

"We might be seen," warned Murtagh, looking their way.

"Do you think I give a damn if we're seen or not?" Mark asked him scathingly.

Murtagh hesitated, then walked over to them, helping Mark bear Brom's body out of the cave, Eragon carrying his sword and staff. Mariah followed behind them slowly, picking her way through the rocks and brush.

"At the top," Eragon said, looking at Mariah.

"Ah… yes," she agreed, nodding.

The older boys glanced back at them, "We can't dig a grave out of stone." Murtagh said.

"We can do it," Mark insisted, nodding. They struggled to the top, their injuries making the journey difficult. He and Murtagh laid Brom down on the stone carefully. Afterward, he winced and hugged his torso, muttering a healing spell under his breath to remove some of the pain.

"Let me."

"I'll help you," Eragon insisted, looking at her.

Mariah blinked and nodded, taking his hand. She gestured slowly, making sure he was assisting her. "Moi stenr!" The stone rippled. It flowed like water, forming a body-length depression in the hilltop. Molding the sandstone like wet clay, they raised waist-high walls around it.

They laid Brom inside the unfinished sandstone vault with his staff and sword. Stepping back, they again shaped the stone with magic. It joined over Brom's motionless face and flowed upward into a tall faceted spire. Mariah stepped back, folding her hands together, her head lowered slightly. Eragon however, moved forward and placed a hand on the front facet.

"It should say something…" he insisted, glancing at Mariah.

She nodded, "Go ahead."

After a long moment of thinking, he set the runes in the stone:

HERE LIES BROM

Who was a Dragon Rider

And like a father

To me.

May his name live on in glory.

"And me…" Mark said, reading it.

"And me…" She sat down in front of the monument quietly, "That fits us all… thank you."

Mark stood there with them most of the day with nothing but the wind to ruffle their thoughts. When the light faded from the land and evening was upon them, he insisted they move back into the cave where it was safe.

* * *

Mariah sat waiting for Eragon to wake. Mark was out hunting as soon as she'd woken, not trusting Murtagh with her still asleep. He had taken care of the litter from when Flayme had carried their grandfather, leaving no sign of Brom. Unbeknownst to him, Murtagh had left shortly after to do exactly the same. She smiled a bit when Eragon shifted slightly, opening his eyes slowly. "Morning."

"Mornin'," he mumbled, sitting up, rubbing his eyes which were sore from crying.

She stared at him for a minute, "Do you know her name?"

"What?" He asked, blinking, looking confused.

"Last night… I woke up and I heard you muttering. 'She's bleeding, someone help. She needs help.' I was wondering who it was… and what it meant."

Eragon swallowed, sighing a bit. "I… keep having dreams…" he started hesitantly, as if unsure he wanted to fully explain it all to her. "About a woman chained in a dark cell… she always looks like she's in pain. This time, she was bleeding. I… I think she's real. She must be real, she looked right at me. I don't know how or why but she knows I can see her. I need to help her."

"You've had these dreams before? When?"

"The first one was after we fought the Urgals…" he nodded, moving towards the entrance of the cave and sitting there.

She blinked, following. "You didn't tell me."

"I didn't think anything of it… and we were focused on finding the Ra'zac."

"Alright. We should find her. If she does exist, there is a reason she's in contact with you. Whether that reason is good or bad is difficult to say. It may even be Galbatorix himself playing tricks on your mind, so we cannot tell Mark that we intend to find her as we travel. Agreed?"

Eragon smiled, clearly pleased she wasn't questioning his compulsion to find the woman. "Right." His face slowly fell flat once more.

"What's wrong?"

He looked at her sadly, "I do not… wish… to hide it from you, though I'm afraid to tell you in fear of you hating me."

"I promise I won't."

"You can't do such a thing," he insisted, sighing a bit. Eragon continued anyways however, "The witch, Angela… told me that there was a death in my future that was rapidly approaching and would cause me much grief. I worried that it was Roran… or you. I didn't imagine it would be Brom…"

"I did ask to know your fortune," she admitted. "But whether you would have told me or not, the same would have happened… Brom would still be dead. There's nothing that could have stopped that. I am not upset with you for not telling me. The prophecy from Angela was yours and yours alone, you never have to share it with anyone, know that."

He smiled a bit, nodding. "Thank you."

They turned a bit as they heard someone approaching. Murtagh said nothing, carrying a pair of rabbits and sitting down by Eragon. "How are you?" he asked.

"Very ill."

Mariah bit her lip but sighed, feeling much the same.

Murtagh considered this for a moment, "Will you recover?" Eragon shrugged. After a few minutes of reflection, Murtagh said. "I dislike asking this at such a time, but I must know… Is your Brom _the _Brom? The one who helped steal a dragon egg from the king, chased it across the Empire, and killed Morzan in a duel? I heard you say his name, and I read the inscription you put on his grave, but I must know for certain, was that he?"

She blinked at him; concerned he knew so much, "Yes. It was him… how did you know? You talk about things that are secret to most, and you were trailing the Ra'zac when we needed help… are you by any chance a member of the Varden?"

"I'm running away, like you." There was restrained sorrow in his words. "I do not belong to either the Varden or the Empire. Nor do I owe allegiance to any man but myself. As for my rescuing you, I will admit that I've heard whispered tales of a new Rider and reasoned that by following the Ra'zac I might discover if they were true. Imagine my surprise when there are two Riders. And one of them a girl, no less…"

Mariah glared at him, "What's that supposed to mean? I don't give a damn if you're the son of Galbatorix himself, I can best you in a sword fight any day with a hand tied behind my back. I dare you to insult me again."

"No insulting my lady," he assured, raising his eyebrows defensively. "I was merely stating my surprise…"

She went to argue some more but Eragon interjected, "I thought you wanted to kill the Ra'zac…"

Murtagh smiled grimly. "I do, but if I had, I never would have met you."

As she watched Eragon, she could see his expression change into one of concentration, then surprise. She blinked, giving him a questioning look. Almost immediately she felt him brush against her consciousness, _His mind is fully guarded. How can he do that?_

_I don't know… he would have needed training. He must be of importance to someone for that to be the case. _She blinked at him and shook her head.

"Where is Saphira?" Eragon asked, noting Flayme asleep in a corner.

"She flew off when they went hunting earlier," Mariah said. "I don't know after that."

"She followed me for a time, then flew off on her own. I haven't seen her since before noon." They both blinked as Eragon stood and walked back into the cave. "What are you going to do now?"

"I'm not sure." He admitted, rolling up his blankets and tying them to Cadoc's saddlebags. As Eragon shifted things in his bags, he uncovered Zar'roc. He took out the sword and weighted it in his hands. Mariah watched as he shuddered, pulling off his bow and belting on the Rider's sword. It suited him, in a strange way and it was his, Brom had given it to him after all.

"Rabbits must just magically appear while I'm away," Mark commented, noticing Murtagh's handiwork.

"I left shortly after you."

"And returned before it seems," he said, dropping to the floor and cleaning his arrows. "Mariah, could you?"

She nodded, removing her hunting knife from her waist and cleaning the rabbits he'd caught. Mariah glanced over at Eragon, "Go ahead and sort through the rest of it as well. Alright?"

He blinked at her, "Are you sure?"

"Yes. Mark and I have enough already, you can have whatever you like."

With a small smile, he turned back, sorting through Brom's bags, finding only clothes, a few odd items, and a small pouch of coins. Eragon took the map of Alagaësia and put the bags away, then crouched by the fire.

"That sword. May I see it?" Murtagh asked, wiping his hands free of rabbit blood.

Eragon hesitated, then reluctantly relinquishing the weapon over to him. Murtagh examined the symbol on the blade intently. His face darkened. "Where did you get this?"

"Brom gave it to me. Why?"

Murtagh shoved the sword back and crossed his arms angrily. He was breathing hard. "That sword," he said with emotion, "was once as well known as its owner. The last Rider to carry it was Morzan – a brutal, savage man. I thought you were a foe of the Empire, yet here I find you bearing one of the Forsworn's bloody swords!"

In an instant, Mark had his own sword against Murtagh's throat. "If you ever call any of us traitors in my presence again, I'll cut your throat and leave you where you fall."

Eragon stared at Zar'roc with shock. "Brom never told me where it came from," he said truthfully. "I had no idea it was Morzan's."

"Really?" Mark asked, glancing over at him. "That's a stupid thing not to tell you. Yes. It was, now be careful with it, will you? It's important."

"Marcus, your sword?" Mariah reminded him.

He blinked, looking back at Murtagh, withdrawing his blade and sheathing it.

"Even so, I'm going to carry it. I don't have a sword of my own. Until such time as I get one, I'll use Zar'roc." Eragon said.

Murtagh flinched as Eragon said the name. "It's your choice," he said.

"You should," Mariah insisted, "It's yours to keep, Brom wanted it that way."

When the meal was ready, they ate, all feeling much better after a hot meal. Eragon looked over at Mariah, "I was thinking about selling one of the horses."

"I'm sure we can find a buyer in some town or village." Murtagh said.

"We?" Mark coughed. Murtagh winced a little, letting Eragon and Mariah talk for a minute.

"Why?" She asked Eragon, blinking.

"Well… since Brom's not with us anymore… and you always fly." Eragon said.

"I sometimes ride." She pointed out, "When we get to cities, for example. Don't sell any of them, please."

He smiled a bit, "Alright. You can have Snowfire then."

"Ah… are you sure? He's much more temperamental than Cadoc… I don't know if he'd let me."

"You try to ride him first, if he disagrees I will, fair?"

"Yes," she nodded. "And Murtagh is coming along, correct?"

He glanced at Mark, calculating for a moment before speaking. "You won't want to stay here for much longer. If the Ra'zac are nearby, Brom's tomb will be like a beacon for them. And your ribs are going to take time to heal. You were coughing up blood last night and your leg is still wounded. I know you can defend yourselves with magic, but you need a companion who can lift things and use a sword. I'm asking to travel with you, at least for the time being. But I must warn you, the Empire is searching for me. There'll be blood over it eventually."

After a silent moment, Eragon started laughing a bit, weakly so as to not hurt himself more. Mariah smiled, chuckling a bit and letting out an exasperated sigh.

Mark blinked, "You won't be any safer with us. Galbatrorix just might send the entire army after us. Especially after the incident in Dras Leona."

"But brother, he's right. We're in no shape to lift a sword. We need all the help we can get."

"I'm much better than I was yesterday."

"You used magic to cover the pain so you could hunt this morning," she pointed out. "Probably made all your injuries worse." Mariah turned her gaze to Murtagh, "It would be nice to have you along with us. However, my brother is right. It will probably be far more dangerous…"

"I know that," said Murtagh with a quick grin. "But all the same, it won't stop me."

"Good." Eragon smiled with gratitude. Saphira came back shortly, lying on the floor. They conversed for a while silently.

"What does she say Eragon?"

"Flayme told you about Gil'ead?"

"Not yet…" she blinked, looking at him asleep a ways off. He yawned and opened an eye.

_You never asked._

_Terrible lizard. Tell me now._

_Brom told us of a man called Dormnad, who lives in Gil'ead. He can help us find the Varden._

_Ah_, she blinked, looking back, "Yes. A man in Gil'ead. Dormnad. He can help us locate the Varden."

Eragon nodded.

"If you find this Dormnad and then continue on to the Varden, I will leave you. Encountering the Varden would be as dangerous for me as walking unarmed into Urû'baen with a fanfare of trumpets to announce my arrival."

"Then let's get going," Mark said, standing. He smirked as Murtagh shot him a sneer. "The sooner we get to Gil'ead, the better."

"It's a long way to Gil'ead, Mark. We won't have to part anytime soon. However, we should leave before the day grows any older."

"Are you strong enough to travel?" Murtagh asked, looking between them.

"We should," Mariah said, "Despite our injuries we have to continue."

Eragon nodded, "I'll go crazy. Sparring, practicing magic, or sitting around twiddling my thumbs aren't good options right now, so I choose to ride."

They doused the fire, packed, and led the horses out of the cave. Mariah was following Mark and Murtagh when Eragon paused, handing off Cadoc's reins to their new companion. He scurried off, up the sandstone. She blinked, glanced at Mark and followed after before he could protest. Her leg gave her a fit while she climbed, but she pushed through it and found him at the top near Brom's grave. Saphria and Flayme were already there.

Mariah went to stand next to him, staring at the monument. _I wish you could have stayed with us longer… long enough to see us end this war. You deserved to see the end of it. _

After a few silent minutes, Eragon turned to leave, waiting for Mariah to help her back down. Saphria lurched forward, pressing the tip of her nose to the stone. Her sides vibrated as a low humming filled the air.

The sandstone around her nose shimmered like a gilded dew, turning clear with dancing silver highlights. Eragon watched in wonder as tendrils of white diamond twisted over the tomb's surface in a web of priceless filigree. Sparkling shadows were cast on the ground, reflecting splashes of brilliant colors that shifted dazzlingly as the sandstone continued to change. With a satisfied snort, Saphira stepped back and examined her handiwork. The sculpted sandstone mausoleum of moments before had transformed into a sparkling gemstone vault – under which Brom's untouched face was visible.

"What did you do?" Eragon asked, looking at Saphira with awe.

Flayme snorted, _Timelessness. He can rest in peace for eternity. _Throwing his head back, he released a stream of fire into the air, snapping his jaws shut before the ashes dissipated in the wind.

* * *

_gedwëy ignasia_ – shining palm

_Moi stenr_ - Stone, change

Sorry for the delay. Hope you enjoyed this chapter.

I hope that it's apparent that Mark's a little paranoid, which may indeed lead him to being a tad whiny at times and that the dialogue's more clear as to who is talking to who.

for fireymaiden and Restrained. Freedom

Thanks everyone for reviewing!

With Love, As Always,

Mariah


	28. Ch 27: Spring

**Chapter Twenty-Seven: Spring**

They rode, but it was apparent they were going nowhere fast. Every step that Cadoc took jolted Eragon's body. His broken ribs forced agony onto his face with every breath. Saphira was flying low, making sure to stay in contact with him. Mariah was pretty sure it was one of the only things keeping him going. Looking ahead, Aluora was cantering back and forth across the landscape, unable to stay at the agonizingly slow pace of the other horses. Mark didn't seem to mind, seeing as Murtagh was sticking back near his sister. She shook her head and glanced over past Eragon to him. "What's your horse's name?"

"Tornac, after the man who taught me how to fight." Murtagh patted the horse's side. "He was given to me when he was just a foal. You'd be hard pressed to find a more courageous and intelligent animal in all of Alagaësia, your dragons excepted, of course."

Mariah found the idea ridiculously familiar.

"He is a magnificent beast," said Eragon admiringly.

Murtagh laughed. "Yes, but Snowfire is as close to his match as I've ever seen." He said, looking over at the stallion Mariah was riding.

"My brother's mare, Aluora is the most brilliant horse I know of. I am positive she could outmatch your Tornac with ease." Snowfire whinnied and she shook her head, leaning over his neck to whisper in his ear, "I am biased, though you are by far the most handsome horse I've met." He snorted happily and trotted on.

They covered only a short distance that day; it was nice to be moving again anyway. It wasn't running away from their troubles, in fact they were riding through unsettled land. The road to Dras-Leona was several leagues to the west. They would skirt the city by a wide margin on the way to Gil'ead, which was only a few days ride from Carvahall. The thought of going so close to their old home sent chills up her spine.

In the next town, they relinquished the belongings they no longer needed and resupplied their food, knowing they wouldn't be stopping so often when passing the capital. The days rolled by unnoticed as their small group traveled in isolation.

While riding, Mariah would normally spur Snowfire ahead of Eragon and Murtagh. Once they had found that they shared many of the same interests, it was difficult to convince them to talk of anything else. Most hours were spent riding alongside her brother, listening to the boys' idle chatter behind them as the brother and sister rode in silence, knowing very well what was going through the other's mind. On the occasion they did speak, it would be training of sorts, verbal banter back and forth, using as much of the Ancient Language as they could knowing that if they didn't use it, the words would be harder to remember in a pinch.

When Mariah did ride alongside the other two boys, they always avoided talking about their pasts. Murtagh remained mute as to why the Empire was chasing him. Honestly, Mariah had the feeling she didn't want to know. Eragon didn't speak of his past either, thankfully. Mark had already said he didn't feel up to sharing with Murtagh, and was relieved they weren't either. All Murtagh knew was that Mariah and Mark were siblings, Brom was their grandfather, and Eragon was their friend from home. Wherever home was.

It was inevitable however, that they learned about each other. Murtagh's familiarity with the power struggles and politics within the Empire even enticed Mark to ride alongside them from time to time, though it only increased his suspicion in their newest companion. He seemed to know what every noble and courtier was doing and how it affected everyone else.

"If I had to guess-"

"You don't," Murtagh reminded him.

"-I would say that you're a spy. You know too much about the Empire, and you said they were chasing you."

"Even if I was, what would you do about it?"

"Nothing." He said earnestly, smirking a bit and clicking his tongue, Aluora breaking into a canter to speed ahead of the male horses.

They stopped for the night shortly after, tethering the horses to a few trees nearby. Murtagh went hunting and Mark collected firewood, which Flayme quickly set on fire. Mariah was unsaddling the horses while Eragon rested against an oak.

"No sign of the Ra'zac… it's been a week, at least."

"Mmhmm… but we should probably still keep watch tonight." Mariah said, patting Snowfire's neck before looking over at him, "So… anymore dreams?"

He shook his head, "No… and every time I try to scry her I just get an empty cell."

"We're going to pass another town tomorrow, Flayme saw it while he was flying. We'll check if she's there, alright?"

"Third time's the charm?"

"Sure." She shrugged a bit, "C'mon, looks like dinner's ready."

After dinner, they took turns staying up. Mark finally went to sleep while Murtagh stayed up, trusting that he wasn't going to kill them while they dreamed.

"I'll stay up, go ahead and sleep."

He looked up at her, blinking, "Thanks." Murtagh said, stretching and going to lay down on his bedroll.

"Of course. You'll get a few hours of sleep in before sunrise at least." Mariah said, sitting down on the rock nearby. She pulled a knife from her left boot and flipped it around between her fingers. Yawning, she twisted it into the air and caught the bottom on her finger tip mindlessly.

_We'll arrive in Gil'ead in a few days. Then we shall be on our way to the Varden._

_Hopefully. My fear is that we won't be able to find the person we're looking for._

_Don't worry about that until we reach the city. Are you concerned about anything else?_

_That Eragon won't be healed by the time we get there. We're going to get attacked while passing Uru'baen. Murtagh turns on us or gets captured. Mark gets convinced he's traitorous and kills him. Yeah… a few concerns._

Flayme snorted a bit, covering his face with his claws, _I don't believe you have to worry about any of that little one. _

_Thanks Flayme._ She sighed and focused her gaze on the horizon. Between the knife flipping and Flayme's aimless reporting of a hawk's hunting adventures in the area, the morning came quickly. The sunlight cast shadows throughout the camp, revealing the smoldering embers from the dying fire. Mariah watched the dawn encase the open plains of the countryside before slipping her knife away and getting to her feet. She stretched before walking over to Eragon, touching his shoulder. "Hey, wake up, it's morning."

He shifted a bit before waking, blinking up at her through bright blue eyes. "Morning."

Mariah hid her smile and moved to her brother, ruffling his hair, "Get up, we need to get going."

Mark yawned, stretching and staggering to his feet, rubbing his eyes with his finger tips. She walked over and nudged Murtagh with her boot, "You awake yet?"

"Yeah," he muttered, scrunching his eyes up, shielding his face from the sun.

Once the boys were awake and the horses were saddled, they headed out for the next town. She made sure to convince Mark to stop and check it out. He agreed, going to resupply and letting Mariah and Eragon run off to quickly explore, Murtagh going off somewhere on his own.

"Wait," she said, grabbing his arm and pulling him backwards. He jumped back next to her and they blinked at the notice posted on the wall of an inn. "That… looks a little bit like you, yeah?"

He nodded, reading it slowly. "This sucks."

"No kidding," Mariah muttered, pulling her hood up. Eragon did the same before they slipped away, looking for a jail. They came across one near the edge of town. She surveyed the area and spotted a man sitting guard in a chair with his feet up on a table. He didn't look much older than Mark. "I'll distract the guard, you go look inside."

"What do you mean distract?"

"Just go," she said, pushing him slightly and dropping her hood, ruffling up her hair up. "Don't take too long. I'll meet you back by the horses in fifteen minutes." As he slipped away she walked over to the guard, "Excuse me."

He looked up at her, "Yes, what is it?"

"I'm traveling with my brother and I'm afraid I'm a little lost. We were supposed to meet at an inn, so I went to the one just across the road, but he wasn't there. I think it's the wrong one, could you point me in the right direction?"

He stood and walked over to her, Eragon slipping behind him into the jail. "Where are you supposed to meet?"

"I'm afraid I don't know the name of it." She said, pausing and pretending to think, looking back down the road towards town.

"There are two others, one on the other side of town, if you follow the road all the way straight through and another if you go west. I would suggest starting at the one on the other end of town, it seems more likely. Anything else I can help you with miss?"

"Ah, yes, actually," she said, smiling a little. "We're looking for a blacksmith; my brother's sword needed repair."

"Although there's a man in town here, I would point you to the next city. The prices are better with more than one of them. That is if you don't need a repair immediately."

"Unfortunately, it is quite urgent," she sighed a bit. Eragon slipped out and away again, looking frustrated. "I appreciate your help though." The guard nodded to her before going back to his chair as she trotted off back to town. "So, no luck."

"No," he sighed, waiting by Cadoc for Mark and Murtagh to show back up.

Before much longer the two of them returned and they continued on their way, hurriedly getting through town without attracting too much attention. Their travels north forced them toward the capital, Uru'baen. It was a heavily populated area, which made it difficult to escape notice. Soldiers patrolled the roads and guarded the bridges. It took them several tense, irritable days to skirt the capital. Once they were safely past Uru'baen, they found themselves on the edge of a vast plain. It was the same one that they had crossed after leaving Palancar Valley, except that they were on the opposite side. They kept to the perimeter and continued north, following the Ramr River.

"We'll stop here for the night," Mark said, halting Aluora. "It's well guarded with all the boulders around."

Mariah nodded, dismounting Snowfire and letting him graze on the grass. It was the middle of spring and the images of Carvahall haunted her memory. Unlike the desolate, harsh winters, spring in Carvahall was fresh and beautiful. Everything was new and bright, birds returned from their trips to the south to nest. The snow melted and turned into spring. The thought made her smile slightly, the motion hurting her face a little. It was then she became conscious how many weeks it had been since she had properly smiled.

She looked around camp for a moment and sighed, sitting in the grass while Murtagh skinned some rabbits. Eragon moved over and sat near her, poking at his torso slightly, moaning a bit as his ribs were still healing. One of the older boys had collected wood to make a fire and Flayme was expertly blowing a small inferno from his jaws. Showing off usually came at a price, since Saphira still couldn't breathe flames. Mariah blinked, realizing her dragon was around eight months old. Had it really been that long since he'd hatched? Next to her, Eragon moaned again.

"Stop prodding at your wounds, you're making it worse. It won't heal if you keep doing that," she said, turning to look at him.

He sighed and looked back at her, "I know." Eragon thanked Murtagh when he handed them dinner, going to sit back down across the fire from them, staying as far away from Mark as he could.

After she ate, she counted backwards the months it'd been since Flayme had appeared, unable to believe how long it'd been. He'd hatched in the fall and it was already spring. Mid-spring. She blinked, looking over at her brother, realizing she'd missed his nineteenth birthday. It would have been a few weeks ago now, around the same time Brom had died. The same day Brom had been stabbed. The day that Murtagh had saved them from the Ra'zac. The thought made her a bit happy but feel sorry for her brother all the same.

"Just a little while longer until we get to Gil'ead, I can't wait… taking a day to rest, not having to travel all day will be a relief." Mark muttered, stretching out on the ground, glancing over his map.

"I wouldn't count on Gil'ead being restful," Murtagh said. "Considering its location in the Empire… Galbatorix has complete control over it. It's one of the Empire's major strongholds."

"Did I ask for your input?"

"No."

"That's right, and I don't need it either. Save your energy and stop telling me things I already know."

Murtagh shook his head, sighing and prodding the fire.

Her gaze shifted from Murtagh to Eragon as he stood up. She blinked, realizing she'd missed something vital earlier. Counting, in her head, she started at Mark's birthday. Their birthdays were twenty-seven days apart. Today was Eragon's birthday. She blinked again, why hadn't he said anything?

"Uh… Mariah?" He asked, standing near her.

She looked up at him.

"You okay?"

"Fine," she said.

"Okay…" he shrugged a bit and walked off by Saphira who was lounging near the rocks.

She blinked and stood up a few minutes later, walking after him quietly.

"Yes?"

"We've been riding all day…"

"Yeah, so?"

"You didn't say anything," she blinked, standing in front of him.

He raised his eyebrows, "About what?"

She chuckled. "Your birthday."

"Ah," his face reddened a bit, casting his eyes sideways. "I didn't feel like bothering anyone. Besides, I don't think Murtagh cares."

"I care," she pointed out. "You're sixteen… that's important."

"Not really."

"Of course it is." In Carvahall, a celebration would have been held for his entrance into manhood, like Mark had gone through three years prior.

"It's alright."

She shook her head and hugged him carefully, aware of his wounds, "Happy Birthday. I know it's not much, but you should still be happy that you turned sixteen. Especially considering everything that's happened recently."

"I… thanks Mariah." He muttered, stetting his hand on her shoulder.

"C'mon now, we have to do something."

"What?"

She grabbed his hand and spun around, forcing him to step after her in an awkward, clumsy dance. Mariah caught his shoulder and steadied him. Once he'd regained his balance, he raised his eyebrows and blinked. She shook her head, taking his right hand and setting it on her waist, gripping his left with her shining palm. Smiling, she moved slightly until he caught on and led. After stumbling and tripping a few times, he started laughing at how ridiculous it was, causing her to laugh in turn.

Mark looked up from his map and blinked at them. He watched from a distance as he sat by the flames and smiled a little. A release from all the dread that had formed over the past few months, if only momentarily, was a welcome relief.

Looking over, he saw Murtagh watching them as well. "It's nice to see that they still have the ability to laugh and smile… after everything they've experienced so far. It's unfair for them… especially her. They're just so young."

For once, Mark agreed with him, watching Eragon stumble around his more graceful sister. After a few minutes of spinning, she stopped them, knowing his wounds would be hurting if they continued much longer.

"Thanks."

"Welcome Eragon." She said, smiling a bit. "Sorry I didn't get you a birthday present."

"We've been a little busy," he admitted, "Oh. The dagger. You said I could keep it."

"I did…"

"That's my present."

"I gave that to you forever ago."

"Doesn't matter," Eragon insisted, smiling. "Thank you."

Mariah shook her head, "Get some sleep, alright? We're going to leave early tomorrow."

"Alright."

They rejoined the older two who were expertly ignoring one another. It was almost weird if they weren't now. She sighed and sat down. "Who's staying up first?"

"Me."

Mariah yawned, not even caring who spoke, lying down and falling asleep.

* * *

The day finally came when Eragon unwrapped his side for the last time. His ribs had healed completely, leaving him with only a small scar where the Ra'zac's boot had cut his side. He stretched slowly, then with increasing vigor when there was no pain. He flexed his muscles, pleased.

"All better are we?" Mark chided, glancing up at him from his book he'd swiped from a vendor in the last town.

Eragon tugged his tunic on and walked back to the small fire where Murtagh was sitting, whittling a piece of wood. Eragon drew Zar'roc. Murtagh tensed, though his face remained calm. "Now that I am strong enough, would you like to spar?" asked Eragon.

Mark blinked, looking at him, "Are you insane? You just healed up and now you want to fight?"

"Why not?"

"Aren't you worried about tearing something back open?"

"No, are you?"

He sighed and shook his head, going back to his book. Muragh looked at Eragon curiously, "With sharpened swords? We could kill each other."

Mark snorted.

"Here, give me your sword," said Eragon. Murtagh hesitated, then handed over his long hand-and-a-half sword. Eragon blocked the edge with magic, the way Brom had taught him. While Murtagh examined the blade, Eragon said, "I can undo that once we're finished."

Murtagh checked the balance of his sword. Satisfied, he said, "It will do." Eragon dulled Zar'roc, settled into a crouch, then swung at Murtagh's shoulder. Their swords met in midair. Eragon disengaged with a flourish, thrust, and then riposted as Murtagh parried, dancing away.

Jumping to his feet, Mark hurriedly got out of their way and onto a large rock pile nearby, snapping his book shut to watch. "Either way this is going to end well."

They struggled back and forth, trying to batter each other down. After a particularly intense series of blows, Murtagh started laughing. Not only was it impossible for either of them to gain an advantage, but they were so evenly matched that they tired at the same rate. Acknowledging with grins each other's skill, they fought on until their arms were leaden and sweat poured off their sides.

"Stop!"

Murtagh stopped in mid-blow and sat down with a gasp. Eragon staggered to the ground, his chest heaving.

"Are you two crazy?" Mariah snapped, throwing her kill down on the ground. She'd insisted upon going hunting as soon as she realized her leg was healed. "You-" she pointed at Eragon, "-just took your bandages off didn't you? You shouldn't jump into a fight as soon as you're healed. Not like that. A little practice swinging would have been perfectly fine. And you, fighting with him, should know better. I don't care if he insisted or not, it was stupid. And Mark!" She rounded on him, glaring, "Sitting and watching makes you just as responsible. What if he got hurt again, then what?"

"It'd be like yesterday," he said simply, jumping back down. "I tried to warn him."

"Sorry Mariah… I couldn't help it. After not being able to do anything for weeks I had to."

She fell down on the ground, busying herself with cleaning the rabbits, muttering the whole time.

"You are amazing. I've studied swordplay all my life, but never have I fought one like you. You could be the king's weapon master if you wanted to."

"You're just as good," observed Eragon. "The man who taught you, Tornac, could make a fortune with a fencing school. People would come from all parts of Alagaesia to learn from him.

"He's dead," said Murtagh shortly.

"I'm sorry."

They rested in silence while they waited for their dinner to cook, none of them too keen to get chewed out by Mariah again. As soon as they had food in their hands again however, Mark suggested they keep up their training. Mariah quickly protested, but after mentioning that it would help Eragon recover, she stopped and agreed. From then on, every evening Murtagh and Eragon would spar and when he was well enough, Eragon would practice magic with Mark. Murtagh was curious about it and soon revealed that he knew a surprising amount about how it worked, though he lacked the precise details and could not use it himself. Mariah would sit with him and explain as they practiced speaking in the ancient language, translating words as they went.

On the outskirts of Gil'ead they stopped the horses side by side. It had taken them a month to reach it, during which time spring had finally nudged away the remnants of winter. They had all changed during the trip, each clearly growing calmer and stronger, both mentally and physically. None of them brought up the past, when they could avoid it, and on the rare occasion it did, they would pass over the painful memories smoothly.

From a distance they could see the city was a rough, barbaric place, filled with log houses and yapping dogs. There was a rambling stone fortress at its center. The air was hazy with blue smoke. The place seemed more like a temporary trading post than a permanent city. Five miles beyond it was the hazy outline of Isenstar Lake.

They decided to camp two miles from the city, for safety. While their dinner simmered, Murtagh said, "I should be the one to go into Gil'ead."

"Why? I can disguise myself well enough," said Eragon.

"And Dormnad will want to see the gedwëy ignasia as proof we really are Riders."

"Perhaps," said Murtagh," but the Empire wants you much more than me. If I'm captured, I could eventually escape. But if _you_ are taken, they'll drag you to the king, where you'll be in for a slow death by torture – unless you join him. Plus, Gil'ead is one of the army's major staging points. Those aren't houses out here; they're barracks. Going in there would be like handing yourself to the king on a gilded platter."

"I say let him go," Mark said, looking up, "If he doesn't come back in a day we'll know he got captured, betrayed us or was killed. Sounds like a good plan."

"Mark, will you stop that already?" She sighed.

"If anything goes wrong, I'm coming after you," Eragon insisted, looking at Murtagh.

He laughed. "That would be fit for a legend: how a lone Rider took on the king's army single-handedly." He chuckled again and stood. "Is there anything I should know before going?"

"Shouldn't we rest and wait until tomorrow?"

"Why? The longer we stay here, the greater the chance that we'll be discovered. If this Dormnad can take you to the Varden, then he needs to be found as quickly as possible. None of us should remain near Gil'ead longer than a few days."

Mariah sighed and nodded, relaying the information from the dragons to him that he would need to convince Dormnad of their existence.

"Very well," said Murtagh, adjusting his sword. "Unless there's trouble, I'll be back within a couple of hours. Make sure there's some food left for me." With a wave of his hand, he jumped onto Tornac and rode away. Eragon sat by the fire, tapping Zar'roc's pommel apprehensively.

"I hope he dies."

"Mark!" She said, punching his shoulder.

"What? He said he doesn't want to come with us anyway. What's the point?"

"He's helping, so stop it."

"Alright, alright."

Hours passed, but Murtagh did not return. Eragon was pacing around the fire, Zar'roc in hand, while Saphira watched Gil'ead attentively. Only her eyes moved. Flayme was out hunting, mostly just busying himself instead of waiting and going mad. Suddenly she moved, flicking her tail. Eragon swiveled toward Gil'ead, alert. He saw a distant horseman exit the city and ride furiously toward their camp. Mariah stood and climbed Snowfire, wishing Flayme could fly faster back to them. However, a moment later Eragon dismounted. The horse was gray – Tornac – and bent over his neck was Murtagh. No one seemed to be pursuing him, but he did not slow his reckless pace. He galloped into the camp and jumped to the ground, drawing his sword.

"What's wrong?" asked Eragon.

Murtagh scowled, "Did anyone follow me from Gil'ead?"

"We didn't see anyone."

"Good. Then let me eat before I explain. I'm starving." He seized a bowl and began eating with gusto. After a few sloppy bites, he said through a full mouth, "Dormnad has agreed to meet us outside Gil'ead at sunrise tomorrow. If he's satisfied you really are Riders and that it's not a trap, he'll take you to the Varden."

"Where are we supposed to meet him?" asked Eragon.

Murtagh pointed west. "On a small hill across the road."

"So what happened?" Mariah blinked at him.

He spooned more food into his bowl. "It's a rather simple thing, but all the more deadly because of it: I was seen in the street by someone who knows me. I did the only thing I could and ran away. It was too a late, though; he recognized me."

"I knew it was a bad idea," Mark said, huffing.

"Since I don't know your friend, I have to ask: Will he tell anyone?"

Murtagh gave a strained laugh. "If you _had_ met him, that wouldn't need answering. His mouth is loosely hinged and hangs open all the time, vomiting whatever happens to be in his mind. The question isn't _whether_ he will tell people, but _whom_ he will tell. If word of this reaches the wrong ears, we'll be in trouble."

Glancing at her brother, Mariah thought for sure she was going to have to restrain him from strangling Murtagh's throat. "Mark, calm down… it's alright, we'll figure it out."

"I doubt that soldiers will be sent to search for you in the dark," Eragon pointed out. "We can at least count on being safe until morning, and by then, if all goes well, we'll be leaving with Dormnad."

Murtagh shook his head. "No. As I said before, I won't go to the Varden."

"Good riddance," Mark muttered, folding his arms.

Eragon stared at Murtagh sadly and started to protest, but something stopped him.

"Let's just rest and figure out what we're doing in the morning," Mariah suggested, looking between them. Mark was already lying down on his bedroll, ready to sleep. Saphira hummed in her chest; she assured them she would take first watch and keep an eye out for anything suspicious.

Mariah woke to a hand shaking her shoulder. She blinked, looking up at Eragon. "Wh-" he pressed his fingers to her lips to silence her. _Something's wrong. Saphira can smell horses nearby, but they're not moving…_

Her eyes widened and she got up, crawling to her brother, shaking him awake and sliding her hand over his mouth as she relayed the information. Behind her, Murtagh woke with a start, yanking a dagger from under his blankets. After Eragon explained, he wordlessly drew his sword. Mariah looked around; not seeing Flayme back yet either, she took the sword Mark offered her. He drew back an arrow on his bow. They moved over to Saphira, prepared for an attack. As they waited, the morning star rose in the east. A squirrel chattered.

Then an angry snarl from behind made Eragon spin around, sword held high. A broad Urgal stood at the edge of the camp, carrying a mattock with a nasty spike. The Urgal roared and waved his weapon, but did not charge. Mark released his arrow; it caught in the creature's neck, but didn't go much farther than an inch.

"Brisinger!" barked Eragon, stabbing out with magic. The Urgal's face contorted with terror as he exploded in a flash of blue light. Blood splattered Eragon, and a brown mass flew through the air. Behind him, Saphira bugled with alarm and reared. Eragon twisted around.

Mariah raised her sword but Mark snatched it from her, pressing his bow into her hand along with his quiver. "Move!" He shouted, shoving her away from the oncoming rush. Steel clashed loudly as Murtagh attacked the Urgals, Mark quickly jumped over to join him in his efforts. He slashed wildly with the sword in his right hand and released spells with his left, trying to keep them occupied and away from his sister, shooting arrows from a distance. Eragon tried to join them but was blocked by four of the monsters. The first one swung a sword at his shoulder. He ducked the blow and killed the Urgal with magic. He caught as second one in the throat with Zar'roc, wheeled wildly, and slashed a third through the heart. As he did, the fought Urgal rushed at him, swinging a heavy club. Eragon saw him coming and tried to lift his sword to bock the club, but was a second too slow.

"Fly, Saphira!"

"Eragon!" She shouted, wincing as he hit the ground, knocked out cold. There was a flurry of red and Flayme landed in front of her. He threw flames toward the Urgals, avoiding the boys best he could. Charging in, he blocked some of them from reaching Murtagh and was turning to retrieve Mark when they attacked him from behind, slashing and beating his back leg. He rotated his head and thrashed his tail, whipping them away again. By the time he'd turned back, Eragon and Mark were already being carried off toward the city. He roared and moved to follow before stopping and going back to Mariah.

_Are you alright?_

She nodded, hurrying to Murtagh, shaking his shoulder. "Hey, can you hear me?"

Blinking awake quickly, he nodded, "Yeah. Sorry… the wind got knocked out of me…"

"They took Mark and Eragon."

He stared at her and scrambled to his feet, watching them ride away. Murtagh looked back at her, then at Saphira. "We'll just have to go get them back."

* * *

Sorry I've been slow lately with the updates.

Thank you for all the 'faves' and reviews, I take note of them all and appreciate them so much. I'm just glad I could share this with you.

Hope you liked the chapter... where Eragon is once again in trouble... for five minutes... please? Can you stay out of trouble?

No.

Damn.

With Love, As Always,

Mariah


	29. Ch 28: Rescue

**Chapter Twenty-Eight: Rescue**

"What are we going to do?" She asked, following him as he saddled the horses.

Murtagh silently buckled the strap around Tornac's stomach before responding. "We'll get the horses ready to go first… so when we're leaving we won't have to stop."

"Oh," she blinked, nodding and saddling Aluora and Snowfire. When they finished, she stopped and looked back at him again.

"We'll head into the city and figure out a way to get them out. It'll be faster if we fly, so Saphira and Flayme can carry us out quickly."

She nodded.

"Are you alright? You look a little… stunned."

"My brother just got captured right in front of me…" she blinked at Murtagh. "I'm a little concerned… yeah."

He put a hand on her shoulder and smiled a bit, "Hey, it'll be alright. We'll bust them out and get the hell away from here by dawn tomorrow."

"Alright, what do we need to do?"

Murtagh blinked at her attitude change and picked up his sword that had fallen to the ground, sheathing it before going over and picking up Mariah's as well. Handing it back to her, "Sneaking into town isn't going to be that easy, but we'll have to check out the jail while it's still light in order to figure out how to get in."

"Sounds like a good plan," she nodded, sheathing her sword at her waist. Mariah reached up, pulling her black hair up into a ponytail, the end trailing down to her waist. "Saphira, I promise I'll get Eragon out safe. Can you and Flayme stay here until we need you? It'd be a little difficult to hide you from the city when it's daytime."

The dragoness snorted and dipped her head._ Of course young one. Please, stay safe._

Flayme flicked his tail, ducking his head down to his Rider. _If you need me, I shall be a thought away._

_Thank you,_ Mariah smiled at him, turning to Murtagh, "Ready to go?"

He pulled up his hood, heading for Gil'ead, hoping to get into the city before the sun rose. Mariah trotted after him quickly before matching his stride. "So."

"Yes?"

"Are you still worried?"

"Yes, but it'll do no good for me to worry about them. We're going to rescue them, and that's the end of it. I just pray they won't be harmed by the time we get to them."

"We'll just have to hurry a little, that's all. I don't think you have anything to be concerned about." They walked on in silence for a while longer. "It's going to be difficult to hide you, especially since they're looking for you now and know you're here."

"It's not like you're invisible either," she pointed out. "Your loose-tongued friend prolly has your description plastered all over the city."

"What do you suggest I do about it?"

"Disguise yourself. We'll see how bad it is before we do anything," Mariah told him. "I really don't think we need to be… worried." Her hands flew to her hood, flipping it up over her hair as soon as she saw posters with her face on it. She ducked into an alley and let out a breath, "Damn."

"Told you." He said, folding his arms across his chest, smug.

"Well don't stand there and act all superior, you need to do something about yourself. No one can see your face; otherwise we'll be in worse trouble."

"And what do you suggest?"

"Figure it out," she said, flicking a dagger from seemingly nowhere.

Murtagh's eyes widened a bit, "What are you doing with that?"

"Fixing my appearance." Her hand gripped the handle tightly but hesitated.

"Wait-"

Before she could think it over, the dagger flashed upward, slicing through her ponytail just above the tie. The loosened strands fell around her ears as she shook her head, the remainder of her ponytail hitting the ground with a faint thump. She reached up and ruffled the strands, letting some fall towards her face. He bit his lip, "Wow. I can't believe you just did that…"

"It'll grow back," she muttered, sheathing the dagger at her waist. Mariah picked up the two feet of ebony ponytail lying on the ground and pitched it in a garbage bin nearby. "I need to find a change of clothes…"

"Let me, I need to find something as well. It'll be safer if you stay here, I don't want you recognized in those clothes."

She nodded, "Alright."

"I'll be back soon."

"Could you grab a length of bandages too, please?"

"Sure." He said before trotting off, keeping his head down.

She leaned against the wall in the alley and sighed, running her fingers through her short hair. The last time it had been this short was never. She couldn't ever remember having hair so short. Mark had always had fun braiding it for her and said she looked pretty. Her heart panged and she had a feeling he might just start crying once he saw the state of her. It didn't matter now though, the important thing was to get through the rest of their journey and for now, that meant disguising herself while rescuing her brother and Eragon.

Murtagh returned a short while later with some worn clothes and the bandages she'd requested. Once he'd handed them to her he touched something fuzzy to his face. She coughed once in order to not laugh at his fake beard.

"What?"

"It looks funny. You look old."

"That's the point," he told her, sighing. "Now get on with it, whatever you're planning.

Mariah nodded and moved behind a stack of boxes near the back door of a store in the alley. She stripped off her expensive red tunic and folded it into a square. She placed it against her stomach and secured it onto her body with the bandages before moving upward. She took a breath and wrapped her chest, flattening her entire figure best she could. Mariah pulled on the more ragged tunic and belted her sword back on. She stooped and snatched the gray cap, pulling it over her short black hair.

"Ready then?" Murtagh asked, examining her handiwork.

"Yeah. Better?"

"Much. I don't even recognize you. In case we're asked, what should I call you?"

"Thomas. You?"

"Ben. I'm older than you, so make it convincing."

"Don't think that'll be much of a problem, uncle."

He smirked a bit and stepped back out into the street, searching for the jail house. It was then it occurred to Mariah that it was most likely located within the castle. She tapped his arm and pointed. He sighed and nodded, heading that way, avoiding people as they bustled about the city. They arrived at the gates shortly and found their way blocked by guards. Instead of trying to head straight in, they turned to the side to look for a back door. Mariah could see the small barred windows used for the jail cell and knew they were in the right place. Finally, they found a back door with only a handful of guards and maids heading in and out of the castle.

Murtagh walked over to the guards, speaking to them, using a few hand motions, clearly frustrated as they refused. He took out a coin purse and proceeded to bribe them, eventually just handing over the entire pouch to gain access to the door. He motioned Mariah over and she darted inside before the man could change his mind. Once inside, they found nothing but maids washing clothing and doing dishes.

A young girl let out a squeak upon seeing them and jumped back.

"Ah, sorry to alarm you," Mariah said, coughing a bit, trying to get her voice to sound lower.

The girl blinked and stood there for a moment, "No 'arm done… what're tha two've you doin' in 'ere?"

"Ah… that is…" she looked around at the other young women who had paused in their cleaning duties. "My brother… was captured earlier today… and I came to rescue him."

Murtagh looked over at her as if contemplating knocking her over the head and proceeding on his own, for fear she'd gone mad.

"Oh… tha's…" the girl blinked wide eyes at her before beaming. "Jus' about tha sweetes' thin' I've eva' heard."

Mariah smiled charmingly at them, "It would be better if no one knew… for our safety."

"Oh, o' course," she nodded. "Don' you worry 'bout tha'. 'cilla?"

"What is it?" A ginger-haired girl asked, walking over.

"This," she paused, looking back at Mariah, "Hands'm young man is lookin' for his brother, who was capt'ed earlier t'day… where'd he be now?"

"I saw 'em bring'n them boys in earlier this mo'nin'. Handed them ov'r to tha red-haired fellow… prolly in the cellars by now… up a floor from here… but… the halls're littered with soldiers."

"Ya could use tha scull'ry chute ta get up there."

"Be the saf'st way."

"Anything to get past the guards," Mariah said, not looking forward to this at all.

"We won't tell no one 'bout you."

She gave them a smile and followed Murtagh who was already scrambling into the chute, crawling through it. "Thank you, so very much ladies."

"A'course… stay safe now darlin'."

Quickly, Mariah scurried after Muratgh, shivering slightly at the filth lining the walls from years of dirty laundry being pitched down it. Finally they emerged and slid onto the floor quietly, looking around for any more guards in the area. They found none but hid behind some bales of hay in a dark corner none the less.

"The guards will have to change at some point throughout the day. We can run out then."

"Alright, when do they change?" Mariah asked.

"I don't know."

"Great plan."

"Yes, I thought so," Murtagh nodded. "We can stay quiet here and keep track…"

"It's probably nearing sundown anyways, we don't have long before nightfall. It'll be easier to get away then."

"So we'll sit and wait… why don't you tell Saphira and Flayme, so they can be prepared to come get us?"

Mariah closed her eyes and carefully reached out to contact them.

_Yes? Are you safe?_

_Extremely… we're in the castle._

_Well done my darling. _

_The problem now is staying hidden until nightfall. Murtagh's planning on waiting until the guard changes tonight to escape. _

_Sounds reasonable enough, what do you wish for Saphira and I to do?_

_Be ready to swoop in and rescue us._

_Rescue you from rescuing your brother, very nice._

She smiled a bit, _It had to be done I suppose. Will you be ready?_

_Of course. Be careful now, you are in dangerous territory._

_I shall. _Mariah nodded, looking back at Murtagh, "They'll be ready when I call them."

"Alright." He said, sitting down, leaning against the wall. "So we wait." Mariah sat down beside him and sighed. "That was pretty clever back there… had them completely convinced."

"Girls are fairly easily persuaded by a charming smile from a young man."

"Oh really? Well, you would know. It's no wonder you haven't killed Mark or Eragon yet. They seem to have that effect on you whenever you're mad at them."

"They do," she nodded. "I can't stay angry with either of them for long."

"How lucky for them," he said.

"You think they're alright?"

"I'm sure they're fine."

Mariah nodded and sat quietly, not wishing for any of the guards to hear her. Murtagh had snuck off to explore escape routes, insisting that she needed to stay put. It would be easier to escape if he was captured, instead of her. A while later he came back, quietly relaying information to her. She resisted moving as the hours passed and could steadily feel her body going numb from the lack of movement. Shifting into a crouch would make her more tired and her legs cramp up however, so she chose not to move. Time crept by them slowly as they waited quietly, Mariah wanted to explore the dungeons and take stock of where everyone and everything was; mostly, she wanted to see if her brother was still alive.

Finally, it was reaching dusk; they could hear some shouting from a ways away when a guard started running towards their position. Her eyes widened and she glanced at Murtagh, he already had a knife in his hand.

She crouched, leaned closer to him and breathed out quietly, "Don't kill anyone we don't have to… please."

The man looked over at her with an expression that clearly wanted to argue, but it was too late for him. The guard was upon them and Mariah pounced from her position, knocking the guard in the temple with the hilt of her dagger. As he hit the ground, she saw the key ring around his belt. Murtagh pried it from the leather and proceeded to stride down the hall. They rounded a few corners, following the shouting before hitting a hallway littered with six guards and on the other side of them was Eragon. He was weaponless and pale. Murtagh already had his bow strung, letting loose three arrows before any of the guards knew what was happening.

Behind them, Mariah could hear some other guards discovering the one she'd knocked over the head. Turning, she drew her sword, taking a few steps away from Murtagh, ready when they rounded the corner to charge her. Behind her, she could hear Eragon shouting words in the ancient language. Murtagh had another arrow pulled back, ready to kill the last of Eragon's attackers when he shouted, "Don't kill him!"

He turned towards Mariah, letting the arrow loose past her head and into the neck of one of the oncoming guards. She flicked a dagger from her hand and stabbed the next closest in the chest. He fell back against the wall, grasping at the blood pouring from his chest. The others rushed her and she fought them off with her blade, twisting and kicking and punching her way through the fight as Murtagh assisted best he could. Finally, the commotion stopped. She took a breath, wiping her sword clean on the shirt of one of the felled guards and sheathed it.

"Did you kill him?" Murtagh asked.

"Murtagh! Is that you?"

"Yes. I don't want my face seen. Did you kill him?"

"No, he's only asleep. How did you get in?"

"We have to get Mark," Mariah insisted, trotting up next to Murtagh, "In case you don't remember."

"Mariah!"

"Keep it down; do you wanna alert the entire castle?" She hissed, walking past him to go look for her brother. The boys followed quickly, but stopped after only a few feet. Mariah opened the lock with a silent word, pushing the door open and walking to Mark, laying face down on a cot. "Mark?"

He moaned a little when she prodded him but twisted, blinking up at her. His cell had no outside barred window, just solid brick against the castle walls. The floor was littered with hay and from the looks of it, Mark hadn't moved much since his arrival.

"Can you hear me?" She grabbed his arm, pulling him to his feet. He was wobbly, swaying back and forth a little.

"They drugged us with our food and drink, the effect just started wearing off me, and I haven't eaten anything in hours." Eragon told her.

"You should know better," Mariah muttered at her brother, dragging him out of the cell, following Murtagh.

"We have to get up to the next floor before anyone finds us. There'll be an escape route for us in a few minutes. We don't want to miss it." He said, leading.

"Didn't you hear what I said earlier?" asked Eragon, gesturing at the unconscious soldiers. "There's an elf in the prion. I saw her! We have to rescue her. I need your help."

"An elf…!" Murtagh hurried down the hall, growling, "This is a mistake. We should flee while we have the chance."

"Is she the one you kept seeing?" Mariah asked.

"Yes, she has to be." Eragon said.

Mark's body felt a little lighter as they moved. "Mariah?"

"Oh, good, you're coming out of it." She sighed relief, letting go of him, looking up. "We're escaping."

"Clearly… elf?"

"Eragon needs to rescue her," the girl explained simply, watching him take the keys from Murtagh, swinging the door open. A single beam of moonlight slanted through the window, illuminating the elf's face with cool silver. Half a moment later, she collapsed. Eragon barely caught her before she struck the floor.

Murtagh followed him into the cell. "She's beautiful."

"But hurt." Eragon said.

"Let's move boys," Mark snarled a bit, noticing they were taking their time.

"We can tend to her later. Are you strong enough to carry her?" Eragon shook his head. "Then I'll do it," said Murtagh as he slung the elf across his shoulders. "Now, upstairs!" He handed Eragon a dagger, then hurried back into the hall littered with soldiers' bodies.

With heavy footsteps Murtagh led them to a stone-hewn staircase at the end of the hall. As they climbed it, Eragon asked, "How are we going to get out without being noticed?"

"We're not," grunted Murtagh.

"Dragons," Mariah insisted, sighing at his lack of information. "I told them of our plans."

At the head of the stairs was a banquet room filled with broad wooden tables. Shields lined the walls, and the wood ceiling was trussed with curved beams. Murtagh laid the elf on a table and looked at the ceiling worriedly. "Can you talk to them for me?"

Mariah nodded, letting Mark lean against the table.

"Tell them to wait another five minutes."

There were shouts in the distance. Soldiers marched past the entrance to the banquet room. "Whatever you're planning to do, I don't think we have much time." Eragon said.

"Just tell them to stay out of sight," snapped Murtagh, running off.

Mariah sighed, keeping watch. Suddenly, she could hear men coming up the stairs. She pushed Mark down under the table and motioned for Eragon to follow. He hesitated once he got close, looking at the elf. Mariah pushed him too and turned to the woman, staring at her. She _was_ beautiful, Murtagh had been right about that. Mariah quickly dragged her off the table, finding her surprisingly light and ducked under the table with her brother. They held their breath, Eragon clenching the dagger Murtagh had given him.

Ten soldiers entered the room. They swept through it hurriedly, looking under only a couple of tables, and continued on their way. Eragon leaned against a table leg, sighing. His stomach growled. Mariah shook her head, poking her head up past the top of the table. Her eyes scanned the room, landing on a tankard and plate of half-eaten food. It was better than nothing, and bound not to be poisoned. She stood quickly and rushed over, snatching up what she could, racing back and handing off the tankard to him, giving the food to him and her brother. They emptied the cup and devoured the food in a few ravenous bites and gulps.

Murtagh returned carrying Zar'roc, a strange bow, and an elegant sword without a sheath. Murtagh gave Zar'roc to Eragon. "I found the other sword and bow in the guardroom. I've never seen weapons like them before, so I assumed they were the elf's."

"Let's find out." Mariah took the sword – slim and light with a curved crossguard, the ends of which narrowed into sharp points – fit the elf's sheath perfectly. There was no way to tell if the bow was hers, but it was shaped so gracefully they doubted it could be anyone else's.

"What now?" Mark asked, looking between his sister and Murtagh. "The guards are bound to find us if we don't get out of here. They'll double back soon enough."

"Now," said Murtagh, taking out his own bow and fitting an arrow to the string, "we wait. Like I said, our escape has been arranged."

"You don't understand; there's a Shade here! If he finds us, we're doomed." Eragon said.

Mariah's eyes widened and she looked at her brother, "You didn't tell me sooner?"

"I'm sorry; my mind's a little fuzzy right now."

"A Shade!" exclaimed Murtagh. "In that case, tell the dragons to come immediately. We were going to wait until the watch changed, but delaying even that long is too dangerous now." Mariah relayed the message swiftly; she could feel the urgency flooding through Flayme's blood as he rushed to her rescue. "You messed up our plans by escaping yourself," groused Murtagh, watching the room's entrance for soldiers.

Eragon smiled. "In that case, perhaps I should have waited. _Your _timing was perfect, though. I wouldn't have been able to even crawl if I had been forced to fight all those soldiers with magic."

"Shouldn't have gotten yourself kidnapped in the first place," Mariah muttered under her breath. Mark caught it and chuckled a bit.

"Glad to be of some use," remarked Murtagh. He stiffened as they heard men running nearby. "Let's just hope the Shade doesn't find us."

A cold chuckle filled the banquet room. "I'm afraid it's far too late for that."

Mariah and Murtagh spun around quickly, the other two boys still slightly drugged. The Shade stood alone at the end of the room. He looked human except for his crimson hair and maroon eyes. In his hand was a pale sword with a wire-thin scratch curved down the blade; the weapon was thin enough to slip between a pair of ribs, yet stout enough to hack through the hardest armor. He unclasped the brooch that held his cape in place and let the garment fall to the floor. His body was like a runner's, thin and compact, but Eragon remembered Brom's warning and knew that the Shade's appearance was deceiving; he was many times stronger than a normal human.

"So, my young _Rider_, do you wish to test yourself against me?" sneered the Shade, his eyes trained on Eragon. "I shouldn't have trusted the captain when he said you ate all your food. I will not make that mistake again."

"I'll take care of him," said Murtagh quietly, putting down his bow ad drawing his sword.

"No," said Eragon under his breath. Mariah glanced between them. "He wants me alive, not you. I can stall him for a short while,, but then you'd better have a way out for us."

"Fine, go," said Murtagh. "You won't have to hold him off for long."

"I hope not," said Eragon grimly. He drew Zar'roc and slowly advanced. The red blade glinted with light from torches on the wall.

"Wait," Mariah rushed in front of him, pulling the sword from his grip. Her jaw set and she stared at him, silently daring him to protest. Eragon's lips parted, his face twisting with irritation.

The Shade laughed softly. "What's this? Do you think you stand a better chance against me than a _Rider _small boy?"

She twisted to face him, pushing Eragon back towards her brother, staring at the Shade's face, waiting for a flicker of his eyes or twitch of his lip, anything that would betray his next move.

Before either of them could even blink, the ceiling boomed and shook. Dust billowed from it and turned the air gray while pieces of wood fell around them, shattering on the floor. From the roof came screams and the sound of clashing metal. Afraid of being brained by the falling timber, Mariah flicked her eyes upward. The Shade took advantage of her distraction and attacked.

"Mariah!" her brother shouted, holding his hands in front of his face to avoid getting debris in his eyes. A beam from the ceiling landed practically on top of him. He ducked down below a table to avoid being crushed, crawling his way to the elf girl.

She barely managed to get Zar'roc up in time to block a slash at her ribs. Their blades met with a clang that jarred her teeth and numbed her arm. Mariah set her jaw, refusing to worry about his strength advantage at this point. She grasped Zar'roc with both hands and swung fiercely at the Shade's head. He blocked with ease, whipping his sword through the air faster than Mariah had thought possible.

Terrible screeches sounded above them, like iron spikes being drawn across rock. Three long cracks split the ceiling. Shingles from the slate roof fell through the fissures. Mariah ignored them, even when one smashed into the floor next to her. Though she had trained with Brom and her brother, both deadly swordsmen in their own right, never had she felt so outclassed. The Shade was practically playing with her.

She retreated towards the boys, arms trembling as she parried the Shade's blows. Each one seemed more powerful than the last. She knew if she didn't run now, she wouldn't live long enough to so much as think about it. Then, with a contemptuous flick of his wrist, the Shade knocked Zar'roc from her hands. The force of the blow sent her to the floor, where she remained, trying to catch her breath. The screeching was louder than ever. Whatever was happening, it was getting closer.

The Shade stared down at her haughtily. "You put up a good fight. Though, I'm afraid I have no use for you, despite your apparent abilities." He raised his sword and she couldn't do anything but blink, knowing the blade was going to slide right through her. The weapon flashed toward her chest and glanced away. Eragon was panting, Zar'roc firm in his hand, as he stood over her. All of them knew he wouldn't be up for a serious fight; he simply had no strength left after everything.

"A powerful piece you may be in the game that is being played, young Rider, but I'm disappointed that this is your best. If the other Riders were this weak, they must have controlled the Empire only through sheer numbers."

Eragon looked up and shook his head. "No, you forget something."

"And what might that be?" asked the Shade mockingly.

There was a thunderous reverberation as a chunk of the ceiling was torn away to reveal the night sky."The dragons!" roared Eragon over the noise. He grabbed Mariah's arm, practically throwing her towards Mark, out of the Shade's reach. He snarled in rage, swinging his sword viciously. He missed Eragon and lunged. Surprise spread across his face as one of Murtagh's arrows sprouted from his shoulder.

The Shade laughed and snapped the arrow off with two fingers. "You'll have to do better than that if you want to stop me." The next arrow caught him between the eyes. The Shade howled with agony and writhed, covering his face. His skin turned gray. Mist formed in the air around him, obscuring his figure. There was a shattering cry; then the cloud vanished.

Where the Shade had been, nothing was left but his cape and a pile of clothes. "You killed him!" exclaimed Eragon.

"I'm not so sure," said Murtagh, looking over at the others.

Mariah was picking herself up, clearly shaken, "You didn't. They aren't killed quite so easily I'm afraid."

"Explain later, we have to go." Mark said.

Soldiers with nets and spears poured into the banquet room from both ends, backing them against a wall, dragging the elf with them. The men formed a menacing half-circle around them. Then Saphira stuck her head through the hole in the ceiling and roared. She gripped the edge of the opening with her powerful talons and ripped off another large section of the ceiling.

Three soldiers turned and ran, but the rest held their positions. Mariah was surprised more of them didn't flee. With a resounding report, the center beam of the ceiling cracked and rained down heavy shingles. Confusion scattered the ranks as they tried to dodge the deadly barrage. They pressed against the wall to avoid falling debris. Saphira roared again, and the soldiers fled, some getting crushed on the way.

With a final titanic effort, Saphira tore off the rest of the ceiling before jumping into the banquet hall with her wings folded. Her weight splintered a table with a sharp crunch. Crying out with relief, Eragon threw his arms around her. She hummed contentedly.

_Flayme! _

_I am destroying soldiers. Let Saphira escape first and I shall pick up you and your brother._

_The elf?_

_I can carry Murtagh as well, Saphira will have a hard enough time with two._

"Murtagh, wait and ride with me," she shouted.

He nodded, helping Eragon secure the elf into the saddle before the blonde climbed onto Saphira. Mariah watched as Saphira leaped out of the banquet hall and onto the fortress's roof. Flayme ducked down inside, letting Mariah and the two men clamber onto his back. As soon as they were all holding on, he pounced after the dragoness onto the roof, where the bodies of watchmen lay scattered. Murtagh was pointing and shouting, catching Mariah's attention. Archers lined the tower on the other side of the roofless hall.

_We have to go Flayme, now!_

He unfurled his wings, rushing after Saphira to the edge of the building, pushing off with his powerful legs. The extra weight made both dragons drop alarmingly. Flayme pulled up swiftly, adjusting to the excess and beating his wings hard, gaining altitude. Behind them, the musical twang of bowstrings being released.

Arrows whizzed toward them in the dark. Flayme compensated and shot upward swiftly. Saphira roared with pain as she was struck and quickly rolled to the left to avoid the next volley. More arrows perforated the sky, but the night protected them from the shafts' deadly bite. Mariah twisted in her saddle to look at Saphira, seeing her laboring in flight. _Flayme, are you injured?_

_No, darling, however Saphira is badly, we won't be able to fly long._

_Fly as far as she is able, we must get away from Gil'ead as fast as possible._

_I understand; I will stop when she cannot go on._

Mariah hugged him around his neck, avoiding the large spikes and let out a relieved sigh as they left the city behind and veered eastward, soaring upward through the night.

* * *

Thanks FlameOfOlympus and Flower for reviewing after the last chapter update! I'm glad you're enjoying the story.

So this is your... "Valentine's Day Chapter"... I guess... sorry it's not very romantic or anything (I know some people are into holiday specials or whatever) but we did rescue Arya...

...and Arya means plot twisting...

That's all I'm gonna say. Elf lady = plot twist. Nuff said.

So, Happy (early) Valentine's Day! Or Single's Day (In my case) - go and buy yourself some chocolate and watch a violent movie or play some video games. It's the best.

With Love, As Always,

Mariah


	30. Ch 29: Claret Visions

**Chapter Twenty-Nine: Claret Visions**

The dragons soared downward to a clearing, landing on the crest of a hill, resting their wings on the ground, allowing for their passengers to scurry down from their backs. Turning his head, Flayme tried to see if Saphira was alright but was unable to see through the darkness surrounding them. Half a moment was spent thinking about breathing fire for some light when he dismissed it. They were, after all, only half a league from Gil'ead. The horses nearby snorted nervously, Mark rushed over to his she-horse to calm her down, Murtagh followed after to help get them ready to go.

Mariah turned to her dragon, _Are you alright?_

_I have no damage that needs immediate attention, Saphira however does._

She walked over to Saphira, listening to her breathing as her eyes adjusted to the dark. Once she could see faintly, Mariah moved next to Eragon, helping him find the punctures through the thin membrane of her wings. The bloody holes were as thick around as her thumb. There was also a small chunk missing from the back edge of her left wing. She shivered whenever one of the injuries were touched. Eragon move over to the arrow that was embedded in one of the large muscles of her flying arm. The arrowhead poked through its underside. Warm blood dripped off it.

"Hold her wing down. I have to remove this arrow."

Mariah nodded and put her weight behind the grasp she had on Saphira. The dragoness moved, extending her neck and grabbing a tall sapling between her curved teeth. With a yank of her head, she pulled the tree out of the ground and clamped it firmly in her jaws.

"Hold on," Eragon whispered, breaking off the arrow. Trying not to cause any more damage, he swiftly pulled the shaft out of Saphira's muscles. As it left, she threw back her head and whimpered past the tree in her mouth. Her wing jerked involuntarily, knocking Mariah back onto the ground. With a growl, Saphira shook the tree, spraying them with dirt before tossing it away. Eragon sealed up the wound quickly to avoid more bleeding as Mariah picked herself up off the ground, brushing the dirt away. "She didn't mean to hit you."

"Oh, don't worry… I can't imagine how painful that was." Mariah watched as he checked on the unconscious elf. "Flayme can carry her if Saphira's tired." The dragoness sniffed indignantly, tossing her head a bit. "I was just offering."

"It's alright Mariah…" Eragon said, hugging Saphira. She flexed her wings and rose back into the air, the elf's hair streaming back. Flayme growled a bit at her sudden take-off and leaped after her. Seconds later, they were gone.

"Well, you found her."

"Yes," he nodded, letting out a breath, instantly worried now that Saphira was out of sight.

"C'mon, let's get going… before dawn." Mariah hurried over to Snowfire, pulling herself up into the saddle. The stallion whinnied and galloped after Tornac and Aluora. Throughout the night they rode, not stopping even when their flagging strength began to slow them. They continued onward, despite burning eyes and clumsy movements. Behind them, lines of torch-bearing horsemen searched around Gil'ead for their trail.

After many bleary hours, dawn lightened the sky. By unspoken consent, they stopped the horses.

"We're making camp," Mark said simply, his tone daring an argument.

Mariah nodded, "You're both exhausted, of course. Flayme said they've landed near a stream, he's hunting now, this way." She turned Snowfire and trotted quickly towards the dragons. They found Saphira drinking from a stream at the base of a small cliff; the elf still slouched on her back. She greeted them with a soft bugle as Eragon dismounted, going to her.

Climbing off her stallion, Mariah looked around the area, wishing Flayme would return from hunting faster. Murtagh helped Eragon remove the elf from Saphira's saddle and lowered her to the ground. Then they sagged against the rock face, exhausted. Already laying on the ground was Mark, his eyes closed, Aluora lying beside him, asleep. Mariah shook her head and walked towards the elf.

"As far as I know, she's the first elf the king has captured. Ever since they went into hiding, he's been looking for them without success – until now. So he's either found their sanctuary, or she was captured by chance. I think it was chance. If he had found the elf haven, he would have declared war and sent his army after the elves. Since that hasn't happened, the question is, Were Galbatorix's men able to extract the elves' location before we rescued her?"

"No," Mariah insisted, stopping and looking at Murtagh.

"We won't know until she regains consciousness," Eragon said.

She shook her head, "I don't think they knew, otherwise they wouldn't have bothered keeping her alive… unless they were planning on using her some other way…"

"So we won't know for sure until she regains consciousness," Eragon repeated. Mariah nodded to him, folding her arms.

He was looking at Murtagh, "Tell me what happened after I was captured. How did I end up in Gil'ead?"

"The Urgals are working for the Empire," said Murtagh shortly, pushing back his hair. "And, it seems, the Shade as well. We heard one of the maids say they handed you over to him and a group of soldiers. They were the ones who took you to Gil'ead."

Mariah watched Eragon's face flicker with realization and nausea. "Urgals…" he rubbed his face, moaning a bit.

"Yeah, we did insult Galbatorix. He's their "master" just like the ones in Teirm."

"This will mean war! Once the people of the Empire learn of it, they will rebel and support the Varden."

Mariah shook her head.

"Even if they heard of this outrage, few would make it to the Varden. With the Urgals under his command, the king has enough warriors to close the Empire's borders and remain in control, no matter how disruptive people are. With such a rule of terror, he will be able to shape the Empire however he wants. And though he is hated, people could be galvanized into joining him if they had a common enemy."

"Who would that be?" Eragon asked Murtagh, confused.

Flayme swept back into the clearing, dropping off a limp buck in front of Saphira.

Murtagh continued, "The elves and the Varden. With the right rumors they can be portrayed as the most despicable monsters in Alagaesia – fiends who are waiting to seize your land and wealth. The Empire could even say that the Urgals have been misunderstood all this time and that they are really friends and allies against such terrible enemies. I only wonder what the king promised them in return for their services."

"It wouldn't work," said Eragon, shaking his head. "No one could be deceived that easily about Galbatorix and the Urgals. Besides, why would he want to do that? He's already in power."

"Because-" Mark said, sitting up, rubbing his forehead. "His authority is challenged by the Varden. People sympathize with them. There's also Surda, in the south, which has defied him since it seceded from the Empire. Galbatorix is strong within the Empire, but elsewhere his arm is weak. As for people seeing through his deceptions… in Alagaesia, Galbatorix is the law… they'll believe whatever he wants them to. It's happened before."

Mariah sighed and pulled off her hat, chucking it to the ground. Eragon gasped and Mark's face contorted in pain. "What?" She asked, blinking at them.

"…your hair." Eragon said, staring at her. "What happened?"

She reached up and ran her fingers through it before sighing, looking at her brother. "I cut it off so I could disguise myself better. There were posters all around Gil'ead with my face on it; someone was bound to recognize me."

"Couldn't you have just tucked it underneath?" Mark choked out. "Mariah it's all gone. All of it."

"Nothing I can do about it now," she told him, "So don't think about it anymore." Mark muttered and twisted on the ground, turning his back on her, facing his mare. "You too Eragon."

"But-"

"It's gonna stay short for a while, you might as well get used to it." She said, looking at Murtagh. "I want to thank you for helping me rescue them… I know you didn't have to… but I couldn't have done so on my own."

"I'm just glad I could help. It…" Murtagh faltered and rubbed his face. "My main worry now is how we're going to travel with so many men searching for us. Gil'ead's soldiers will be hunting us tomorrow; once they find the horses' tracks, they'll know you didn't fly away."

"How did you two get into the castle anyways?" Eragon inquired.

Murtagh laughed softly. "By paying a steep bribe and crawling through a filthy scullery chute. But the plan wouldn't have worked without the dragons, they are the only reason we escaped alive."

Saphira hummed as Eragon placed a hand on her scaly neck, swallowing a large chunk of venison. He straightened himself, "We should make a bed for her."

Walking over, Mariah pushed him back down, "You have done enough for one day. Stay there and rest, please. I can take care of her now… you've done what you can."

Murtagh got to his feet and stretched out a blanket for her. When they lifted her onto it, the cuff of her sleeve tore on a branch. Mariah let out a quiet gasp. The elf's arm was mottled with a layer of bruises and cuts; some were half healed, while others were fresh and oozing. She set her jaw and pulled the sleeve up higher. The injuries continued to her shoulder.

"Flayme." The dragon lifted his head and moved to her.

Murtagh blinked down at the girls, "What?"

"I need to heal her… do we have any rags for bandages?"

"We… we can't make a fire without being seen."

"Alright then," Mariah said, looking back down at her. "Would you mind making food then? You're all probably just as hungry as I am… but I need to tend to her immediately."

Murtagh nodded, "Of course." He picked up his bow and went to go hunt, stopping once he remembered they couldn't have a fire.

"What's wrong Mariah?" Eragon asked, looking over at her.

She met his gaze and blinked. "I'd rather you didn't see… Murtagh's making food. Can you keep quiet while I do this? I need to focus…"

He swallowed the lump that'd formed in his throat. "Yeah…" he choked out

Flayme flicked out a wing and wrapped his body around Mariah, shielding her from the boys. Before touching the elf, she stripped off her own tunic, unwrapping the bandages around her torso so that she had some material to work with, slipping the red tunic back on and kneeling down.

With trembling fingers, she unlaced the back of the elf's shirt, dreading what might be under it. As the leather slipped off, she cursed. The elf's back was strong and muscled, but it was covered with scabs that made her skin look like dry, cracked mud. She had been whipped mercilessly and branded with hot irons in the shape of claws. Where her skin was still intact, it was purple and black from the numerous beatings. On her left shoulder was a tattoo inscribed with indigo ink. Mariah was sure she had seen it before – on the sapphire of Brom's ring.

"Mariah?" Her eyes snapped up, not having heard him move. Eragon was staring at the elf's back, pale. "Who… who would... There's so much. Can… you heal it?"

"I'm going to try Eragon, but I need you to go back and rest… please," Mariah asked, looking up at him, her green eyes pleading.

"No one deserves this…" his jaw locked and he nodded to himself before walking away again.

"Flayme… don't let anyone else nearby, please…"

_He needed to see it, just once… he did save her after all, he deserved that much._

"Fair enough… but no more." She gently laid a hand on the elf's spine. She took a deep breath, then reached for the magic and started working. "Waíse heill." A burn shimmered under her palm, and new, unmarked skin flowed over it, joining together without a scar. She passed over bruises of other wounds that were not life-threatening, planning on coming back to them if she had enough energy left over. As Mariah toiled, she marveled that the elf was still alive. She had been repeatedly tortured to the edge of death with a precision that chilled her.

Once she finished with her back, Mariah moved on to the rest of her body, whimpering slightly once she turned her over and saw just as much damage to her chest. Eragon had been right, no one deserved this. As she worked, she could feel hatred burning deeper every second, more and more for the Empire and Galbatorix himself. The Shade had been responsible for this, she had a feeling. The next time she saw him, she wanted him dead. As Mariah healed, she was reminded of why she'd insisted on the boys not being allowed nearby. The elf was beautiful, even battered and bruised with her clothes on; as her skin was repaired and cuts erased, the woman almost glowed. Mariah couldn't help but feel slightly jealous of her.

The work continued through dawn, she paused only briefly to eat and drink before returning to her healing. Flayme was curled around them, sleeping, however he woke if Mariah was unsure of what to do next or was lacking energy. The sun was well into the sky when she finished, standing and groaning a bit as her muscles stretched, relieved to be out of their crouching position. She rubbed her eyes and yawned, exhausted. Her hands felt numb from the lack of energy.

Murtagh walked over, holding onto her arm. "Are you alright?"

"Yeah…" she said.

He helped her sit down, "Will she live?"

"I… don't know. Elves are stronger than humans, can endure more abuse, however this… I don't know how she was still breathing." Mariah sighed, "We need to move… before the soldiers find us."

"What? You just drained all your energy; it's not a good idea Mariah."

"Eragon. We need to go," she said. "Wake Mark."

He watched her for a minute before going to rouse the other man. After a moment, Mark got to his feet. Walking to his sister, he looked her over and sighed. "Aluora will ride beside Snowfire. You can rest in the saddle…"

"Thank you." She looked up at the three of them, "Be careful with her… please. She's fragile. I wrapped bandages around her worst wounds and clothed her again, but-"

"It's alright. Don't worry about her anymore." Mark said, putting a hand on top of her head. "We'll take care of her now."

He helped Murtagh strap the elf onto Flayme's saddle, deciding to give Saphira a break. The dragons departed from camp into the morning sunlight. Mariah raised herself onto Snowfire's back, hugging the horse around his neck. Eragon smiled a bit at her, eating as he rode, trying to replace his depleted energy before he leaned forward against Cadoc and closed his eyes.

Throughout most of the day Mariah slept, Mark keeping hold of Snowfire's reins in order to make sure she didn't fall off. The boys spent much time trying to avoid detection by soldiers with hunting dogs. "Damn hounds, if I see one I'm shooting it through its throat with an arrow," Mark muttered under his breath.

_The moonlight was glancing off Flayme's sunset-red scales as he lay basking on the beach. Mariah put her chin in her hand as she sat on his back, sighing. The armor she wore felt heavy, as if she hadn't removed it in days. There was blood spatter on the right vambrace, a deep gash and bandages. A helmet sat in the saddle beside her. Her eyelids felt heavier than her armor, exhaustion slipping over her, draining her entire body as she sat simply staring at the moonlight reflection on the water. The moon always reminded her of her mother. It was always changing, yet reliable and was there most nights of the year. Though to most it would make sense then that the sun would remind her of her father, but that wasn't the case. The sun was constant, warm and bright, just like Eragon. No, the wind was like her father, ever changing and sometimes not there at all, no predictability what so ever. Mariah believed that if she'd ever met her father, this is what he would be like – like the wind. And her mother would have been there for her, every night, usually. They never were. Instead she had her brother - the sturdy, always solid earth - her brother. Brom had always been water, difficult to get a hold of yet completely honest in its reflections. The water was honest, and now reminded her of death, for what is more honest than death? Her eyes widened a bit and she lifted her head, staring down at the blood on her forearm, shivering-_

"Yes?" She asked airily, lifting her head, looking at Mark's face.

He smiled a bit, pulling his hand away from her arm, "It's evening. We're making camp, c'mon now, get down."

Mariah fell gracelessly from the saddle, huffing slightly. As she steadied herself, she watched Eragon lift the elf out of the saddle before hurriedly putting her down. Mariah stepped over to them, kneeling down beside the she-elf and checking to make sure she was still healing properly as the boys made a small dinner.

"What else can we do?" Eragon asked. Mariah blinked, turning around to see him snapping at Murtagh. "If we left the horses behind we could fly out of here, but with the elf too, it's impossible."

Murtagh looked up at him carefully, "If you want to go your own way, I won't stop you. I can't expect you to stay and risk imprisonment on my behalf."

"Eragon…" she called, her voice coming out quietly as she hadn't spoken all day. Mariah cleared her throat to speak again but found he had already settled down. She sighed a little and walked over.

"…only reason I'm free is because of you. I'm not going to abandon you to the Empire. Poor thanks that would be!"

"Your words hearten me." Murtagh paused, "But they don't solve our problem."

"What can?" Eragon asked. He gestured at the elf. "I wish she could tell us where the elves are; perhaps we could seek sanctuary with them."

"Considering how they've protected themselves, I doubt she'd reveal their location, despite our saving her." Mark said, setting his book down on his leg, holding his place with his thumb. "And even if she did, the other elves might not welcome us so kindly. They might even go so far as to kill on sight. Why would they want to shelter us anyway? The last Riders they had contact with were Galbatorix and the Forsworn. I doubt that left them with pleasant memories."

"Not to mention Mark and I aren't even Riders… they would have absolutely no use for us. We'd die before either of you kids." Murtagh added, folding his arms.

"So… what?" Mariah asked, sitting down by the fire.

Eragon shrugged, "Even if they would protect us, we can't find them, and it's impossible to ask the elf until she regains consciousness. We must flee, but in which direction – north, south, east or west?"

Mark chuckled a bit, "That's obvious… east of course… toward the Hadarac Desert… the Varden are supposedly hiding in the land beyond the sands."

"But without directions it might take us years to find them." Murtagh said.

"Better than tramping about in the Empire if you ask me, death is what waits for us here, for certain."

Eragon knitted his brow. "It's too dangerous to go to Surda. We would have to traverse most of the Empire, avoiding every town and village. There are too many people between us and Surda to get there unnoticed."

"So we go across the desert. Like Brom's stories… and find the Varden. Doesn't seem that difficult." Mariah said, looking between the boys who stared back at her dubiously. "Aside from the violently changing temperatures of day and night, the incredible lack of water and food, not to mention human interaction… if we don't pass by at least one town within the month I'll go insane being stuck with the three of you."

Mark cracked a smile and tucked back into his book, "I vote desert."

Murtagh raised an eyebrow, "…Eragon?"

"I don't see any other options. Besides, that way we can leave the Empire before the Ra'zac get here. With their flying steeds, they'll probably arrive in Gil'ead in a couple of days, so we don't have much time."

"Even if we do reach the desert before they get here," said Murtagh, "they could still overtake us. It'll be hard to outdistance them at all."

"That's assuming they can follow our trail. To catch us, though, they'll have to leave the soldiers behind, which is to our advantage. If it comes to a fight, I think the six of us can defeat them… as long as we aren't ambushed the way we were earlier."

"Assuming we reach the other side of the Hadarac safely, where will we go? Those lands are well outside of the Empire. There will be few cities, if any. And then there is the desert itself. What do you know of it?"

"Like Mariah said, it's hot, dry and full of sand."

"That about sums it up," replied Murtagh. "It's filled with poisonous and inedible plants, venomous snakes, scorpions, and a blistering sun. You saw the great plain on our way to Gil'ead?"

"Yes, and once before."

"Then you are familiar with its immense range. It fills the heart of the Empire. Now imagine something two or three times its size, and you'll understand the vastness of the Hadarac Desert. That is what you're proposing to cross."

"Not proposing, we're going to do it, we have no other options," Mark said, still reading. "Not an option. Eragon, there's a map in Aluora's saddle bag…"

The boy went and retrieved it, spreading it out on the ground. Mariah moved over and pointed at the eastern side of the map. "It's extremely vast… and take a month or two to cross straight through, however if we head southward towards the Beor Mountains, we'd probably have a better chance since there'll be water and vegetation in the foothills."

"It'll take us nearly a month just to get to where you're thinking of though," Murtagh pointed out. "It's roughly the same distance as it was to Gil'ead, and that took little over a month."

"I was injured," Eragon said, "If we press ourselves we could make it there in a fraction of the time."

"Until then, what are we going to do about water?" Murtagh asked flatly, "Unless you can make it rain, there won't be enough water for a single day…"

Eragon looked at Mariah who bit her lip. "I'll come up with something."

Mark watched as she stood and trotted off to think, Eragon following after her. He sighed a bit and shook his head, glancing back at his book.

"What are you reading?" Murtagh asked on impulse.

Instead of answering Mark simply stared reading aloud, "…lead away north towards Caradhras, and down to darkness. The Dwarves tell no tale; but even as_ mithril_ was the foundation of their wealth-"

"Okay, fine… sounds boring." He muttered, prodding the fire with a stick.

Mark smirked and continued on with his book, pleased with himself. A few minutes later Mariah came trotting back, with Eragon, looking exhausted again. He sighed and snapped the book shut loudly, "You let her use up more energy? What were you thinking?"

"I… uh…" he looked over at Mariah and blinked.

"I'm fine," she said, waving a little and going over to sit against Flayme's belly. He snorted and curled his head around next to her, humming.

Her brother shot Eragon a glare and shook his head. "Did you figure it out at least?"

"Yes." He nodded, "We can head into the desert without worrying now."

"Good. Now sleep, we're leaving early tomorrow."

He went and lay down next to Saphira, curling up and looking around camp, finally at the she-elf as he started falling asleep.

Mariah fell back into her moonlit dream.

_Her eyes widened a bit and she lifted her head, staring down at the blood on her forearm, shivering as she recalled the last few days in full detail. She couldn't, however, remember why or how they had ended up on the beach, or even where the beach was. Glancing at Flayme, she realized he was asleep and so jumped down from the saddle, walking to the water. Mariah touched it with bloodied fingers and pulled back to her lips, tasting the droplets. Salt. They'd flown all the way to the ocean. She brushed her hair back and walked back to the dragon, spotting her sword on the ground and proceeding to clean the copious amounts of blood away from it. The fight she had barely escaped from had lasted several days, most of which she'd been running or flying, just trying to keep some distance between her and the Ra'zac. She recalled meeting them while heading for Surda. At the time however, she'd only been with Flayme, the boys and Saphira hadn't been with her. Now, sitting and cleaning her sword with her memories returning, she could only think to do one thing: find them. The question was how, for it was easy to lose two boys and a dragon in an entire country. When she lifted her head from her blade, she saw a scarlet eye staring back at her. She smiled a bit at her dragon and climbed atop his saddle after sheathing her blade. Replacing her helmet, Mariah held tightly as he shot into the air-_

"Mariah, wake up, it's time to go."

She sighed a bit and pulled herself up into a sitting position, rubbing her eyes and looking around the camp. The boyshad already readied the horses and the dragons were out of sight. Mariah hoisted herself into Snowfire's saddle and clicked her tongue, waking herself up as they rode swiftly.

Throughout the day, they avoided soldiers best they could, mostly through pushing the horses as hard as they would go without killing them. Aluora was vocally disagreeing with her rider as he whispered encouragement and sweetened words to her. More than once did they all dismount and run on foot to give the animals a rest and they stopped only twice to let the horses eat and drink.

Every time they passed a new town or village, there were new soldiers to avoid. The news of their existence had sped ahead and twice they were nearly ambushed, only avoiding the attack thanks to the overhead dragons' warning. After the second time, they left the main road and traveled through the wilderness to avoid more attacks.

Dusk softened the countryside as evening drew a black cloak across the sky. Through the night they traveled, relentlessly pacing out the miles. In the deepest hours of night, the ground rose beneath them to form cactus-dotted hills.

"There's a town, Bullridge, ahead that we must bypass. They're sure to have soldiers watching for us. We should try to slip past them now while it's dark."

Mariah sighed, her feet aching and still feeling exhausted. It was as though she hadn't slept well in days and the entire journey was beginning to take a toll. Now, they had to hurry by yet another town before sunrise to avoid more confrontations, naturally.

After three hours they saw the straw-yellow lanterns of Bullridge. A web of soldiers patrolled between watch fires scattered around the town. They muffled their sword sheaths and carefully dismounted. They led the horses in a wide detour around Bullridge, listening attentively to avoid stumbling on an encampment.

With the town behind them, Mariah relaxed slightly. Daybreak finally flooded the sky with a delicate blush and warmed the chilly night air. They halted on the crest of a hill to observe their surroundings. The Ramr River was to their left, but it was also five miles to their right. The river continued south for several leagues, then doubled back on itself in a narrow loop before curving west. They had covered over sixteen leagues in one day.

Eragon leaned against Cadoc's neck, sighing, "Let's find a gully or hollow where we can sleep undisturbed."

Mark nodded and looked around, finding a small stand of juniper trees and setting up a small fire-less camp. While the boys did so, Mariah unrolled her blankets and lay down, falling asleep instantly, so exhausted that there were no dreams to be had. Her brother blinked and sighed, sitting down on a rock. "I'll take first watch."

Eragon muttered inaudibly under his breath, passing out on the ground nearby Mariah. After retrieving the she-elf from Saphira's saddle, he and Murtagh both looked exhausted.

"You can sleep too you know."

He looked about ready to snap a retort but thought better of it and curled up to sleep.

Mark shook his head, looking upward at the black sky, watching as his breath clouded in front of his face. He shifted his gaze back towards the camp, watching his sister sleep for a minute before looking toward Murtagh. In another place he might've been willing to be friends with the man, but running from the Empire with his little sister wasn't the best time to be trusting people. He rubbed his face and sighed, wishing he could just be back at home, earning a scolding from Brom alongside his sister for not blocking their swords before fighting. The blood had gotten on the floor.

* * *

Waíse heill - Be healed

And yes, I am a huge Lord of the Rings fan, if you didn't catch that bit.

I apologize, it's been too long. I haven't updated in nearly two weeks, however here is your next chapter.

There are never enough dreams it seems like, and I thought it about time for Mariah to have one, tell me what you think of it.

fireymaiden and Flame of Olympus - thanks for reviewing. I always appreciate it, even if I don't get back with you directly.

With Love, As Always,

Mariah


	31. Ch 30: Arya

**Chapter Thirty: Arya  
**

"Mariah, time to move."

She opened her heavy eyelids and blinked at her brother, shaking her head. There was no way she could get up again already and start riding. "I can't… I'm so tired."

He blinked at her, touching her forehead, "You still haven't recovered from Gil'ead?"

"No… not that, nor healing the elf, nor traveling. Please… I can't keep staying awake for so long and sleeping so little."

Flayme snorted and lifted off the ground, walking to her, nosing at her. _Ride with me and you can sleep comfortably on my back darling._ With Mark's help, she wriggled up into the saddle, strapping her legs down and hugging his neck.

_Thank you._ She said, receiving a hum in return, barely registering it before falling back into a dreamless sleep.

The next time she woke, they were getting ready to cross the Ramr River. The boys had accidentally chosen the widest section to cross at, with the water spanning half a mile. Mark was helping her down, surprised to see her awake.

"Do you feel better rested now?"

"Yes, thank you," she said as her feet hit the ground. "What's going on?"

"The dragons are going to fly the horses over. Eragon's staying back to make sure they get across safely." He chuckled at her expression, "Yeah, I thought so too."

Sure enough, a few minutes later Tornac and Cadoc were on the same side as Mariah, Mark and Murtagh. Tornac was completely terrified after being carried by the dragon and Murtagh ran to catch him before he bolted, tying him down before he could run off. Cadoc was snorting but after Mark walked over and calmed him down, he fell silent. He sighed and watched Snowfire and Aluora being dropped off as well. Both of them took the trip much better. It was then Mariah noticed the she-elf lying on the ground where the boys had obviously put her, she walked over and started examining her wounds.

"I dripped some water into her mouth earlier, I was worried she wasn't eating or drinking anything."

"That was a good idea," Mariah nodded, looking up as Eragon crouched next to her.

He shrugged, brushing back the elf's hair from her face. "I was worried."

Mariah blinked at him, "Well… I'm sure she'll wake up soon."

"I hope so," he said, standing back up.

"C'mon you two, we need to get going." Murtagh walked over, helping Eragon strap the she-elf to Saphira's stomach for easier traveling. The horses were saddled and the sun was beginning to rise. After the dragons flew off, the four of them followed on their horses, heading south for the Beor Mountains.

Eventually the ground became soft and gave way under their feet, forcing them to halt. The sun was high overhead. The Ramr River was no more than a fuzzy line behind them.

They had reached the Hadarac Desert.

By sunset they'd traveled far enough into the void that they could no longer see the lining of trees behind them. The imposing stone bluffs towered over them, casting thin shadows. The surrounding area was free of dunes for a half mile. Heat assailed Mariah like a physical blow as she dismounted Snowfire onto the baked, cracked ground. Her skin felt hot and feverish. Eragon's face and neck were sunburned surprisingly; she didn't think that would happen due to how much time he always spent outside in the sun. She looked down at her own arm and pressed a finger down, pulling it back to reveal a temporary white spot before it faded back to red. The sunburn stung but she knew it would feel even worse later.

After picketing the horses where they could nibble the sparse grass, Murtagh started a small fire.

"How far do you think we went?" Eragon asked, releasing the elf from Saphira.

"I don't know!" snapped Murtagh. His skin was red, his eyes bloodshot. He picked up a pot and muttered a curse. "We don't have enough water. And the horses have to drink too."

Mariah sighed, looking between them before glancing at her brother, not ready for an argument in her current state. Mark avoided eye contact as he tended to the horses, planning on staying out of any sort of confrontation they were going to start.

"Bring the horses." Eragon insisted. Saphira dug a hole for him with her claws, then he closed his eyes, releasing the spell.

Though the ground was parched, there was enough moisture for the plants to live on and enough for him to fill the hole several times over. When he looked warn enough, Mariah put a hand on his arm and insisted she perform the spell instead. He reluctantly agreed and rested. Murtagh refilled the waterskins as water pooled in the hole, then stood aside and let the horses drink. The thirsty animals quaffed gallons. Mariah had to pull moisture from deeper underground than before as the ground started running dry. It taxed her strength to the limit. She looked towards the waiting dragons.

"If either of you need a drink, now would be the time…" Saphira took two mouthfuls, Flayme three. Mariah drained as much of her waterskin as she could before refilling it and letting the water flow back into the ground. She sat ungracefully on the dirt and sighed, wiping her mouth.

The next morning was freezing. The sand had a pink hue in the morning light, and the sky was hazy, concealing the horizon. Murtagh's mood had not improved with sleep, Eragon's was rapidly deteriorating. Even Mark started becoming bitter about the whole ordeal. After another spat between Murtagh and Eragon started over breakfast, she got up and walked to the elf, ignoring the two of them best she could. She looked over her again and found no lingering injuries. Mariah sat next to her and silently wished she would wake soon.

"Mariah, c'mon, we're going now." Mark said, saddling the horses. She nodded and went to Snowfire as Eragon prepared the elf for travel. Mariah glanced over at him before turning her horse towards her brother.

As they left the camp, a line of dark smudges became visible on the horizon, indistinct in the hay air. Murtagh thought they were distant hills. Eragon was not convinced, but he could make out no details.

"I hope it is the edge we're nearing soon, I'm quite sick of all this heat." Mark muttered. "Then at night the frigid temperatures. I'm not suited to this weather out here."

Mariah looked at her brother, "I don't believe anyone is Mark, and we all know certainly not you."

"Hush, you haven't complained about the cold one bit, which is strange."

"There's enough moaning between the three of you for all of us for a month, I didn't think I needed to add to the pool." She said, spurring Snowfire ahead.

Finally, the haze started thinning, and over the next few hours the distant smudges started gaining definition. No longer were they indistinct purple-blue lumps, but rather broad, forest-covered mounds with clear outlines. The air above them was pale white, bleached of its usual hue – all color seemed to have been leached out of a horizontal band of sky that lay on top of the hills and extended to the horizon's edges.

Mariah smiled, "The Beor Mountains. I never thought I would see them with my own eyes."

What they had earlier taken to be hills were actually the bases of gigantic mountains, scores of miles wide. Except for the dense forest along their lower regions, the mountains were entirely covered with snow and ice. The mountains stretched up into the sky until they faded from sight. Narrow, jagged valleys with ridges that nearly touched split the mountains like deep gorges. It was like a ragged, toothy wall linking Alagaësia with the heavens.

Eragon pointed, grinning behind her.

"What?" grunted Murtagh.

"Look closely," urged Eragon.

Mariah turned in her saddle to see their expressions, laughing as she saw Murtagh's jaw go slack, at a loss for words. "That's impossible!" He squinted and tried to look higher. He shook his head. "I knew the Beor Mountains were large, but not that monstrous size!"

"Let's just hope the animals that live there aren't in proportion to the mountains," said Eragon lightly.

Mark blinked, "They are. I do hope you're joking."

"I was… what do you mean they are?"

"There are large bears and wolves that live in the mountains…" Mark told him simply.

"Large?"

"Yes. Some probably half the size of Saphira."

Eragon blinked, visibly swallowing and turning pale.

"It will be good to find some shade and spend a few weeks in leisure. I've had enough of this forced march." Murtagh said, smiling.

"I'm tired too," admitted Eragon, "but I don't want to stop until the elf is cured… or she dies."

"Don't even say that Eragon," Mariah snapped. "We will find a way to help her."

"I don't see how continuing to travel will help her," said Murtagh gravely. "A bed will do her more good than hanging underneath Saphira all day."

Eragon shrugged. "Maybe… When we reach the mountains, we could take her to Surda – it's not that far. There must be a healer there who can help her; we certainly can't."

Mariah bit her lip, wishing that weren't true.

Murtagh shaded his eyes with his hand and stared at the mountains. "We can talk about it later. For now our goal is to reach the Beors. There, at least, the Ra'zac will have trouble finding us, and we will be safe from the Empire."

As the day wore on, the Beor Mountains seemed to get no closer, though the landscape changed dramatically. The sand slowly transformed from loose grains of reddish hue to hard-packed, dusky-cream dirt. In place of dunes were ragged patches of plant and deep furrows in the ground where flooding had occurred. A cool breeze wafted through the air, bringing welcome refreshment. The horses sensed the change of climate and hurried forward eagerly.

When evening subdued the sun, the mountains' foothills were a mere league away. Herds of gazelles bounded through lush fields of waving grass. Mariah caught the dragons eying them hungrily before Flayme swept off to catch one. They camped by a stream, relieved to be out of the punishing Hadarac Desert.

Fatigued and haggard, but with triumphant smiles, they sat around the fire, congratulating each other. Saphira crowed jubilantly, which startled the horses. They had covered roughly sixty leagues in five days, through desert and all. It was an impressive feat, even for a Rider.

"Finally, outside the Empire." Murtagh stretched out, a grin on his face.

Mariah nodded, looking at Eragon, "He's right. No more hiding while we travel." From the look on his face, Mariah could tell he was thinking it through. The losses they had endured to gain so much freedom. She felt it too, but at least they were all still together.

With a sigh he shifted his eyes away from hers and looked over by Saphria. The she-elf was stretched out beside her; the fire's orange light gave her face a warm cast. Smooth shadows flickered under her cheekbones. Mariah watched as he stood and moved over beside her, kneeling down and placing a hand on her forehead.

Mark watched him for a second before looking at Mariah, "What the hell is he doing now?"

"I don't... know…" she blinked and found she did know what he was doing. Why hadn't they thought of it before?

He was there for a minute or two when he shouted, "Eka aí fricai un Shur'tugal!"

Murtagh jumped a bit, sitting up and looking over with alarm. "What?"

"I am a Rider and a friend." Mariah translated absently, "She probably started attacking him when he broke through her mental walls… and she's an elf, so he instantly said it in the Ancient Language, hoping she'd understand faster."

She stood and walked over beside him, kneeling beside him and watching his face. He was barely breathing, his eyes closed, but his face was contorted as if he was focusing, with great difficulty too. Mariah moved to touch him but stopped, realizing it might be dangerous for her to interrupt. If the elf had a hold of his mind, she could probably destroy him. Better to wait it out. She sighed lightly and sat with him silently.

After a few more minutes, Murtagh walked over, staring at him. "Is he going to be alright?"

"I think so… at least he figured out a way to talk to her." Mariah nodded.

"Well… good, I guess."

"It is good," Mark said from beside the fire, flipping through his book. "If she can tell us how to get to the Varden, it's very good." Mariah agreed silently, hoping that would be the case.

Eragon took a shuddering breath and forced his eyes open. He looked between Mariah, Saphira and Murtagh near him, watching him with concern.

"Are you alright?" asked Murtagh. "You've been kneeling here for almost fifteen minutes."

"I have?" asked Eragon, blinking.

Mariah touched his shoulder, "Yes. Are you alright?"

He stood, wincing as his cramped knees stretched. Mariah helped steady him, blinking. "I talked with Arya!" At Murtagh's expression, he explained further. "The elf – that's her name."

Mariah blinked.

"Looks like he got through after all," Mark said, closing his book and walking over. "Well, care to explain what you talked to her about?"

"Yes. I told her where we are and that she was in Gil'ead. She said that she's staying like this because of the poison in her body, called Skilna Bragh. If she doesn't get the right antidote, she'll die in the day." Mariah's face paled and he quickly continued, "She said she can stay like this for weeks though. But she still needs the antidote; otherwise she's going to die. Arya told me that it can be found with the Elves or with the Varden. She showed me the way to the Varden… with images. It's like I've been there before… She said when we arrive at the lake Kóstha-mérna at the end of the Beartooth River, we take a rock, band on the cliff next to the waterfall and say," he paused, finding the right words, "Aí varden abr du Shur'tugalar gata vanta." Mariah quickly memorized them. "She said we'd be challenged after that and to not falter, no matter how perilous it seemed. She needs… Tunivor's Nectar. And said that she can't use any more energy talking to us or she'll die."

Murtagh blinked and asked, "How far away are the Varden?"

"I'm not exactly sure," confessed Eragon. "From what she showed me, I think it's even farther than from here to Gil'ead."

"And we're supposed to cover that in three or four days?" demanded Murtagh angrily. "It took us five _long_ days to get here! What do you want to do, kill the horses? They're exhausted as it is."

"But if we do nothing, she'll die! If it's too much for the horses, Saphira can fly ahead with Arya and me; at least we would get to the Varden in time. You could catch up with us in a few days."

Murtagh grunted and crossed his arms. "Of course. Murtagh the pack animal. Murtagh the horse leader. I should have remembered that's all I'm good for nowadays. Oh, and let's not forget, every soldier in the Empire is searching for me now because you couldn't defend yourself, and I had to go and _save_ you. Yes, I suppose I'll just follow your instructions and bring up the horses in the rear like a good servant."

Mariah quickly realized this was not an argument she wanted to be in the middle of and took a step back towards her brother, swallowing.

"what's wrong with you? I'm grateful for what you did. There's no reason to be angry with me! I didn't ask you to accompany me or to rescue me from Gil'ead. You chose that. I haven't forced you to do anything."

"Oh, not openly, no. What else could I do but help you with the Ra'zac? And then later, at Gil'ead, how could I have left with a clear conscience? The problem with you," said Murtah poking Eragon in the chest, "is that you're so totally helpless you force everyone to take care of you!"

"Don't touch me," Eragon growled.

Murtagh laughed, a harsh note in his voice. "Or what, you'll punch me? You couldn't hit a brick wall." He went to shove Eragon again, but Eragon grabbed his arm and struck him in the stomach.

"I said, don't touch me!"

Murtagh doubled over, swearing. Then he yelled and launched himself at Eragon. They fell in a tangle of arms and legs, pounding each other. They scrabbled across the ground, trying to get leverage. Eragon managed to get his feet under Murtagh's chest and kicked mightily. Murtagh few upside down over Eragon's head, landing flat on his back with a solid thump.

"Boys, c'mon stop it," Mariah said.

Murtagh's breath whooshed out. He rolled stiffly to his feet, then wheeled to face Eragon, panting heavily. They charged each other once more, hitting the ground as they pummeled one another. Eragon kicked at Murtagh's right hip, missed, and grazed the fire. Sparks and burning embers scattered through the air. Mariah's hand flew to her face as the cinders from the fire pit caught in the wind. She shouted and dropped to her knees.

"Mariah!"

Eragon was pinned under Murtagh, who was ready to deliver another punch to the blond's face, when they heard her scream. He stopped and looked up, Eragon shoving the boy off and hurrying over to her. The collar of her tunic had caught aflame and she was trying to brush the ash out of her face and eyes. Mark was smothering the fire to put it out before her hair caught as well. He grabbed her hand and pulled it away, looking over her face. She was crying black tears but he was relieved to see none of the burning embers had touched her skin. Mark looked at her hand and brushed away the hot ashes seeing a few small burns dotted along the back.

He swung around, glaring daggers and ready to yell at the two of them. Much to his surprise however, both of them were arguing again.

"Look what you did!" Eragon shouted.

"What I did? You're the one who kicked the fire!"

"Because you started all this!"

Saphira's tail slapped between them, accompanied by a deafening roar. Eragon ignored her and tried to jump over her tail, but a taloned paw caught him in midair and flung him back to the ground. He futiley tried to push Saphira's muscled leg off his chest and saw that Murtagh was likewise pinned. Saphira roared again, snapping her jaws. She swung her head over Eragon and glared at him. After a silent scolding, his cheeks burned red and he averted his eyes, looking at Mariah still kneeling on the ground, but her eyes looking much clearer. Mark was busy healing the burns on her hand.

The dragoness held them there for a minute before she snaked her head over Murtagh, glaring at him too.

"Well, is she going to get off us?" Murtagh asked finally.

"No, not unless we talk… She wants me to ask you what's really the problem."

Saphira growled and affirmative and continued to stare at Murtagh. It was impossible for him to excape her piercing glare. Finally he shrugged, muttering something under his breath. Saphira's claws tightened on his chest, and her tail whistled through the air. Murtagh shot her an angry glance, then grudgingly said louder, "I told you before: I don't want to go to the Varden."

"Don't want to… or can't?" Eragon asked.

Murtagh tried to shove Saphira's leg off him, then gave up with a curse. "Don't want to! They'll expect things from me that I can't deliver."

"Did you steal something from them?"

"I wish it were that simple."

Eragon rolled his eyes, exasperated. "Well, what is it then? Di you kill someone important or bed the wrong woman?"

"No, I was born," said Murtagh cryptically. He pushed at Saphira again. This time she released them both. They got to their feet under her watchful eye and brushed dirt from their backs.

As soon as they were let up, Mark rushed over to them, his fists balled up tightly at his sides. "I can't believe the two of you! I don't give a damn if you beat one another's faces in but do it away from my sister! You threw fire in her face, you could have blinded her, and I can't believe you would be so careless. Especially you Eragon," he said, pointing at him, glaring.

"It's not like he did it on purpose Mark," she said, blinking rapidly and wiping at her crying eyes. The ashes were mostly gone now, but it still stung enough. "It was an accident…"

Eragon evaded her gaze, swallowing. "It was my fault… and I'm sorry."

"Sorry doesn't cover it," Mark growled, his knuckles making crackling noises.

"Mark, please stop it…"

He looked at her and sighed, stepping back beside her and checking her over again to make sure there weren't any more burns.

Hoping Mark wouldn't change his mind and decide to murder him, Eragon turned back to Murtagh. "You're avoiding the question," Eragon said, dabbing his split lip.

"So what?" spat Murtagh as he stomped to the edge of the camp. After a minute he sighed. "It doesn't matter why I'm in this predicament, but I can tell you that the Varden wouldn't welcome me even if I came bearing the king's head. Oh, they might greet me nicely enough and let me into their councils, but trust me? Never. And if I were to arrive under less fortuitous circumstances, like the present ones, they'd likely clap me in irons."

"Won't you tell me what this is about?" asked Eragon. "I've done things I'm not proud of, too, so it's not as if I'm going to pass judgment."

Murtagh shook his head slowly, eyes glistening. "It isn't like that. I haven't _done_ anything to deserve this treatment, though it would have been easier to atone for if I had. No… my only wrongdoing is existing in the first place." He stopped and took a shaky breath. "You see, my father-"

A sharp hiss cut him off abruptly. The dragons were staring into the horizon.

They followed their gaze westward. Murtagh's face paled. "Demons above and below!"

Mariah rubbed her eyes once more and walked over to the boys, staring.

A league or so away, parallel to the mountain range, was a column of figures marching east. The line of troops, hundreds strong, stretched for nearly a mile. Dust billowed from their heels. Their weapons glinted in the dying light. A standard-bearer rode before them in a black chariot, holding a crimson banner.

"It's the Empire," said Eragon tiredly. "They've found us… somehow."

"Yes… but those are Urgals, not men," said Murtagh.

"How can you tell?" Mariah asked.

"That flag bears the personal symbol of an Urgal chieftain. He's a ruthless brute, given to violent fits and insanity."

"You've met him?"

Murtagh's eyes tightened. "Once, briefly. I still have scars from that encounter. These Urgals might not have been sent here for us, but I'm sure we've been seen by now and that they will follow us. Their chieftain isn't the sort to let a dragon escape his grasp, especially if he's heard about Gil'ead."

Eragon hurried to the fire and covered it with dirt. "We have to flee! You don't want to go to the Varden, but we have to take Arya to them before she dies. Here's a compromise: come with us until we reach the lake Kóstha-mérna, then go your own way. If you leave now, in sight of the column, Urgals will follow you. And then where will you be, facing them alone?"

"Very well," said Murtagh, tossing his saddlebags over Tornac's flanks, "but when we near the Varden, I _will_ leave."

Mark didn't even bother to comment on the idea of losing Murtagh's company. He helped his sister saddle Snowfire, turning to Aluora and climbing atop her back before heading off into the night.

The dragons fanned their wings and took off in a rush, circling above them. Stilling her wings, Saphira rose on an updraft and teetered on the pillar of warm air, hovering in the sky over the horses. As the night deepened, the Urgals faded into the gloom behind them.

* * *

Eka aí fricai un Shur'tugal. – I am a Rider and a friend.

Aí varden abr du Shur'tugalar gata vanta. – A warden of the Riders lacks passage.

* * *

Wow. It's been a while. Sorry for the long wait. Thanks to those of you who reviewed the last chapter.

We're 2/3 of the way through _Eragon_ and I hope to be finished by the end of Spring. Thanks for sticking with me.

I just realized I might never have mentioned it, but I do type out everything I read from the books. I don't have access to a

digital copy of the book, so I'm literally typing the words out from the beat-up paperback beside me. I enjoy doing so, but I

had someone ask me about it the other day so I thought I'd mention it.

Edit: I have part of the next chapter already written. I'll upload the next one soon. My way of apologizing for this chapter taking so long.

With Love, As Always,

Mariah


	32. Ch 31: Into The Valley

**Chapter Thirty-One: Into The Valley**

When morning came, Mariah's cheek was raw from chafing against Snowfire's neck, and her eyes still stung from the soot that had been thrown in them the night prior during the fight between Murtagh and Eragon. They had alternated sleeping in their saddle throughout the night. It had allowed them to outdistance the Urgal troops, but they didn't know if the lead could be retained. The horses were exhausted to the point of stopping, yet they still maintained a relentless pace. Whether it would be enough to escape depended on how rested the monsters were… and if the horses survived.

The Beor Mountains cast great shadows over the land, stealing the sun's warmth. To the north was the Hadarac Desert, a thin white band as bright as noonday snow. Saphira landed and Eragon dismounted Cadoc, untying Arya from the harness.

She watched him transfer the elf into his saddle as Flayme popped into her head. _Saphira is going hunting for the moment, she'll be back soon._

_Alright… fair enough._

_How are your eyes my dear?_

_They're fine… they sting a little is all. But I'm sure they're just irritated._

He snorted into the cold mountain air, _Stupid boys. If Saphira hadn't intervened I would have broken them in two. _

_You would have not._

_No, perhaps you're right. There was enough terror on their faces just from seeing you harmed. That suited the situation well I believe._

Saphira soared away, disappearing in the direction of the mountains. Eragon ran beside the horses, close enough to Cadoc to keep Arya from falling.

Within the hour, Saphira made her kills, informing Eragon of her return. Flayme set out in search of a meal upon hearing she'd be returning soon, leaving them without a dragon. Mariah watched him go and sighed a bit, feeling vulnerable without him there. Her brother smiled a bit at her reassuringly.

They stopped at a pond to let the horses drink. Eragon idly plucked a stalk of grass, twirling it while he stared at the elf. Mariah was watching him from the corner of her eye when they snapped up at the steely rasp of a sword being unsheathed. Eragon's hand shot to the pommel of Zar'roc and spun around in search of an enemy. She drew her sword from her waist and stared. Murtagh was standing behind Eragon, his long sword held ready. He pointed to a hill ahead of them, where a tall, brown-cloaked man sat on a sorrel horse, mace in hand. Behind him was a group of twenty horsemen. No one moved.

"Could they be Varden?" asked Murtagh.

Eragon was surreptitiously stringing his bow and she could see her brother whispering under his breath, readying himself for a spell.

"The elf said they're still leagues away, unless this is a patrol… or raiding group." Mark muttered.

"Assuming they're not bandits." Murtagh swung onto Tornac and readied his own bow.

"Should we try to outrun them?" asked Eragon, draping a blanket over Arya. The horsemen must have seen her, but hopefully the blanket would conceal the fact that she was an elf.

"It wouldn't do any good," said Murtagh, shaking his head.

"The horses are tired; Tornac and Snowfire are war-horses, not sprinters. Their steeds are built for running. They'd catch us before we went half a mile." Mark said, mounting Aluora, watching the riders on the embankment above as he maneuvered to shield his sister.

Murtagh nodded, "They may have something important to say. You'd best tell the dragons to hurry back."

_Flayme, we've run into a bit of trouble…_

_I leave for a few moments and you get yourself into trouble. I never thought I'd have to be saving you all the time you know, when you became my rider._

_Please, just hurry._ She said, hiding behind Snowfire. The band of men watched them from the hill. She fiddled with the hilt of her sword, twisting her grip on it under her glove.

"If they threaten us," Eragon said quietly, "I can frighten them away with magic. If that doesn't work, there's Saphira and Flayme. I wonder how they'd react to a Rider? So many stories have been told about their powers… It might be enough to avoid a fight."

"Don't count on it," said Murtagh flatly. "If there's a fight, we'll just have to kill enough of them to convince them we're not worth the effort." His face was controlled and unemotional.

The man on the sorrel horse signaled with his mace, sending the horsemen cantering toward them. The men shook javelins over their heads, whooping loudly as they neared. Battered sheaths hung from their sides. Their weapons were rusty and stained, most likely with blood. Four of them trained arrows on the small group.

Their leader swirled the mace in the air, and his men responded with yells as they wildly encircled them. The moment they were thoroughly surrounded, the leader reined his horse, then crossed his arms and examined them critically. He raised his eyebrows. "Well, these are better than the usual dregs we find! At least we got healthy ones this time. And we didn't even have to shoot them. Grieg will be pleased." The men chuckled.

At his words, Mariah felt as if a rock had dropped into her stomach. _Flayme, please hurry…_

"Now, as for you," said the leader, speaking towards Murtagh, "if you would be so good as to drop your weapons," his gaze shifted to Eragon, then Mark. "You'll avoid being turned into living quivers by my men." The archers grinned suggestively; the men laughed again.

Murtagh's only movement was to shift his sword. "Who are you and what do you want? We are free men traveling through this land. You have no right to stop us."

"Oh, I have every right," said the man contemptuously. "And as for my name, _slaves_ do not address their masters in that manner, unless they want to be beaten." The lines deepened on the leader's face. "Throw down your swords and surrender!"

The slavers tensed, staring at them with cold eyes as none of them lowered their weapons.

Their leader moved his horse forward and around Aluora, having spotted Mariah. "There aren't many women out around these parts… you'd make us a pretty pile of gold. Then again… I might just have to keep you for myself." There was a rustle behind Eragon, then a loud curse. Mariah watched him spin around to see what it was.

One of the slavers had pulled the blanket off Arya, revealing her face. He gaped in astonishment, then shouted, "Torkenbrand, this one's an elf!" The men stirred with surprise while the leader spurred his horse over to Cadoc. He looked down at Arya and whistled.

"Well, 'ow much is she worth?" someone asked.

Torkenbrand was quiet for a moment, looking around, his eyes locking on Mariah, then spread his hands and said, "At the very least? Fortunes upon fortunes. The Empire will pay a mountain of gold for her!"

The slavers yelled with excitement and pounded each other on the back.

He spurred his sorrel horse back to Mariah. Atop Aluora, Mark tensed, his lips twitching. Torkenbrand narrowed his eyes at her and reached down, grabbing her face. "You're not an elf too by any chance, are you girl?" He pushed her hair away from her ears and scoffed, shoving her away.

There was a roar from overhead. Murtagh smashed his elbow into a slaver's face, knocking the man out of his saddle, and jabbed his heels into Tornac. With a toss of his mane, the war-horse jumped forward, twirled around, and reared. Murtagh brandished his sword as Tornac plunged back down, driving his forehooves into the back of the dismounted slaver. The man screamed.

Mariah turned to Snowfire and pulled herself onto his back, sword in hand. She swung it towards the nearest archer, cutting deep into his shoulder. He screeched and dropped his bow. Out of the corner of her eye she saw movement and spurred Snowfire away from the rest of the slavers, grabbing Aluora's reins on her way and dragging Mark after her.

A moment later, the ground behind them burst into a fountain of molten drops of indigo fire that dissipated like sun-warmed dew. Saphira dropped from the sky and landed beside Eragon. She parted her jaws, displaying her massive fangs and bellowed.

Flayme thundered to the ground across from her and emptied his lungs in the face of Torkenbrand, blowing his hair back. He snapped his jaws and glared at the horsemen.

"Behold!" cried Eragon over the furor, "I am a Rider!" He raised Zar'roc over his head, the red blade dazzling in the sunlight, then pointed it at the slavers. "Flee if you wish to live!"

Then men shouted incoherently and scrambled over each other in their haste to escape. In the confusion, Torkenbrand was struck in the temple with a javelin. He tumbled to the ground, stunned. The men ignored their fallen leader and raced away in a ragged mass, casting fearful looks at the dragons.

Torkenbrand struggled to his knees. Blood ran from his temple, branching across his cheek with crimson tendrils. Murtagh dismounted and strode over to him, sword in hand. Torkenbrand weakly raised his arm as if to ward off a blow. Murtagh gazed at him coldly, then swung his blade at Torkenbrand's neck.

"Jierda älfr óst."

She whipped her head over to look at her brother, seeing his lips move, "Mark!"

"No!" shouted Eragon, but it was too late.

Mariah closed her eyes, turning her head away. Torkenbrand's decapitated trunk crumpled to the ground in a puff of dirt. His head landed with a hard thump. Eragon rushed to Murtagh, his jaw working furiously. "Is your brain rotten?" he yelled, enraged. "Why did you kill him?"

Murtagh wiped his sword on the back of Torkenbrand's jerkin. The steel left a dark stain. "I don't see why you're so upset-"

"Upset!" exploded Eragon. "I'm well past that! Did it ever occur to you that we could just leave him here and continue on our way? No! Instead you turn into an executioner and chop off his head. He was defenseless!"

"He was already dead anyway, it didn't matter…" Mark said, when Eragon said nothing, he continued. "Murtagh didn't kill him Eragon, I did. His neck was broken before the sword made contact."

"That's worse! Mark, he was completely defenseless!"

Murtagh cut back in, "Well, we couldn't keep him around – he _was_ dangerous. The others ran off… without a horse he wouldn't have made it far. I didn't want the Urgals to find him and learn about Arya. So I thought it would-"

"But to _kill _him?" interrupted Eragon.

"I'm only trying to stay alive," stated Murtagh. "No stranger's life is more important than my own."

"But you can't indulge in wanton violence. Where is your empathy?" growled Eragon, pointing at the head.

"He lost all my empathy when he threatened Mariah… I'm sorry you don't agree. Murtagh's right, our lives are more important. If he lived he may have divulged information about us that we can't have floating around. Stop being such a child and grow up Eragon." Mark said to him, pulling Aluora in front of the blond.

Murtagh shook his head, "What empathy can I afford my enemies? Shall I dither about whether to defend myself because it will cause someone pain? If that had been the case, I would have died years ago! You must be willing to protect yourself and what you cherish, no matter what the cost."

Eragon slammed Zar'roc back into its sheath, shaking his head savagely. "You can justify any atrocity with that reasoning."

"Do you think I enjoy this?" Murtagh shouted. "My life has been threatened from the day I was born! All of my waking hours have been spent avoiding danger in one form or another. And sleep never comes easily because I always worry if I'll live to see the dawn. If there ever was a time I felt secure, it must have been in my mother's womb, though I wasn't safe even there! You don't understand – if you lived with this _fear_, you would have learned the same lesson I did: _Do not take chances_." He gestured at Torkenbrand's body. "He was a risk that I removed. I refuse to repent, and I won't plague myself over what is done and past."

Eragon shoved his face into Murtagh's. "It was still the wrong thing to do." He looked at Mark. "It was wrong, and you don't get to tell me what to do Mark." He lashed Arya to Saphira's harness, then climbed onto Cadoc. "Let's go." Murtagh guided Tornac around Torkenbrand's prone form in the bloodstained dust.

As Snowfire followed, Mariah couldn't help but admire Eragon's sympathy towards the man.

_Who do you believe to be right my darling?_

_I… don't… Eragon has sympathy for the man's life, not for him. He thought it wrong to take his life._

_Correct._

_I… I want to believe his is the noble viewpoint. It is. That taking defenseless lives is wrong. However, another part of me is grateful that Mark snapped his neck… that Murtagh severed his head. If left alive, he may have given away information about us that would harm us in the future. I think I am mostly upset that I didn't kill him myself._

_Why would you say that?_ Flayme asked her, surprised.

_Because… Eragon wouldn't have yelled at me._ She said, turning Snowfire after Aluora, spurring the war-horse to ride alongside her brother. He glanced at her out of the corner of his eye.

"Are you angry with me too?"

"No." She said simply, keeping her eyes focused straight ahead.

They rode at a rate she was sure was impossible a week ago; leagues melted away before them as if wings were attached to their feet. They turned south, between two outstretched arms of the Beor Mountains. The arms were shaped like pincers about to close, the tips a day's travel apart. Yet the distance seemed less because of the mountains' size. It was as if they were in a valley made for giants.

When they stopped for the day, they ate dinner in silence, refusing to look up from their food. Mariah sighed, watching the three boys quarreling with one another internally. Finally, she couldn't take it anymore and just threw her arms in the air.

"Wake me up when it's my turn for watch, and don't talk to me until the three of you stop arguing!" She walked over to Flayme and flopped onto the ground beside him. He flicked a wing out, covering her instantly, snarling quietly at the three of them before curling up to sleep with his lady rider.

In the morning, Saphira took off with both Eragon and Arya, wanting to get away from Murtagh and Mark. The two of them didn't seem to mind one another's company at the moment, due to their similar mindsets. To avoid any skirmishes between the two of them however, Mariah chose to ride along with Flayme as well, who tried his best to stay a distance away from the other dragon and rider. She hugged him around his neck and sighed against the red-orange scales. The aether was frigid and it looked as if it might snow.

_Mariah?_

She blinked, looking up at Eragon who had broken through her mental walls without her notice, _What?_ Mariah sighed, hoping he wasn't about to yell at her too for not stopping Mark yesterday.

_The Urgals are camped by the stream we crossed yesterday afternoon._

_What! _She spun in her saddle and looked behind them, a chill running up her spine. Instantly, the dragons took folded their wings into a dive and landed hastily near the horsemen.

Murtagh asked curtly, "What now?"

"The Urgals are overtaking us," said Eragon. He pointed back toward the column's camp.

"How far do we still have to go?" asked Murtagh, putting his hands against the sky and measuring the hours until sunset.

"Normally?... I would guess another five days. At the speed we've been traveling, only three. But unless we get there tomorrow, the Urgals will probably catch us, and Arya will certainly die."

"She might last another day."

Mark shook his head, "Even elves can only withstand so much, the poison must be coursing through her entire body by now, if she doesn't get help soon, she's going to die, it's inevitable."

"The only way we can get to the Varden in time is if we don't stop for anything, least of all sleep. That's our only chance." Eragon said.

Murtagh laughed bitterly. "How can you expect us to do that? We've already gone days without adequate sleep. Unless Riders are made if different stuff than us mortals, you're as tired as I am. We've covered a staggering distance, and the horses, in case you haven't noticed, are read to drop. Another day of this might kill us all."

"Whether it kills us or not, we have to make it there in the next day," said Mariah. "Arya might be the only chance we get to connect with the Elves… which may prove valuable in the future. They are vanished enough without another of their race dying. I'll not have her blood on my hands."

Murtagh gazed at the mountains. "We could separate and let you fly ahead with Saphira… That would force the Urgals to divide their troops and would give you a better chance of reaching the Varden."

"It would be suicide," said Eragon, crossing his arms. "Somehow those Urgals are faster on foot than we are on horseback. They would run you down like a deer. And I'm not going to have us separate; it's hard enough keeping us all together as it is." Mark snorted a chuckle at the idea. "The only way to evade them is to find sanctuary with the Varden."

"I'll escape later," said Murtagh abruptly. "When we get to the Varden, I can disappear down a side valley and find my way to Surda, where I can hide without attracting too much attention."

"So you're staying?"

"Sleep or no sleep, I'll see you to the Varden," promised Murtagh.

Mark nodded, "Then let's get moving, before the catch up to us anymore than they already are." He watched his sister dismount from Flayme's saddle and climb on Snowfire's back. After Eragon was seated on Cadoc, they hurried on towards the Varden.

"Are you sure you won't stay in the Varden once we've arrived?" asked Mariah, riding alongside Tornac.

"I've said it before; I'm not wanted in the Varden. Leave it at that." Murtagh told her simply.

She huffed and watched him for a moment before turning her gaze forward to guide Snowfire through the forest.

With newfound determination, they struggled to distance themselves from the Urgals, yet their pursuers continued to creep nearer. At nightfall the monsters were a third closer than they had been that morning. As fatigue eroded their strength they slept in turns on the horses, while whoever was awake led the animals in the right direction.

Eragon relied heavily on Arya's memories to guide them. Because of the alien nature of her mind, he sometimes made mistakes as to the route, causing them precious time. They gradually angled toward the foothills of the eastern arm of mountains, looking for the valley that would lead them to the Varden. Midnight arrived and passed without any sign of it.

When the sun returned, they were pleased to see that the Urgals were far behind.

"This is the last day," said Eragon, yawning widely. "If we're not reasonably close to the Varden by noon, I'm going to fly ahead with Arya. Murtagh, you'll be free to go wherever you want then."

"That might not be necessary; we could still get there in time," said Murtagh. He rubbed the pommel of his sword.

Eragon shrugged. "We could."

Mariah glanced over at Eragon, surprised by his words. _I thought you wanted Murtagh to stay with us._

_I did… but after the past few days, I'm not so sure I should be enjoying his company so much._

_You disagree with his actions._

_Yes._

_You disagree with Mark all the time._

_That's… different though._

_How?_

_It… it just is Mariah. It's his decision anyway; I'm not forcing him to stay against his will._ Eragon said as he went to Arya and put a hand on her forehead.

_Alright. Is she doing any better?_

_She's burning hot and sweating with fever. Her eyes are restless, as if she's suffering from a nightmare._

_We'll get her to the Varden soon, not much longer now,_ Mariah assured him, watching as he pressed a damp rag to her brow.

Late in the morning, after they circumnavigated an especially broad mountain, Eragon saw a narrow valley tucked against its far side. The valley was so restricted the rest of them had overlooked it. The Beartooth River, which Arya had mentioned, flowed out of it and looped carelessly across the land. Mariah watched him smile with relief and knew it was the direction they needed to be going. They had to be close by now.

Eragon turned to look behind them and his face quickly switched to alarm. Mariah followed his gaze. The distance between them and the Urgals had shrunk to little more than a league.

"Damn," Mark muttered, quieting Aluora.

"If we can slip in the valley without being seen, it might confuse them," said Eragon.

Murtagh looked skeptical. "It's worth a try. But they've followed us easily enough so far."

"I doubt we'll lose them in here. Our best chance is to hurry and find the Varden and beg for their protection," Mark said, spurring Aluora ahead.

As they approached the valley, they passed under the knotted branches of the Beor Mountains' forest. The trees were tall, with creviced bark that was almost black, dull needles of the same color, and knobby roots that rose from the soil like bare knees. Cones littered the ground, each the size of a horse's head. Sable squirrels chattered from the treetops, and eyes gleamed from holes in the trunks. Green beards of tangled wolf's bane hung from the gnarled branches. Instinctively Mariah reached out and grabbed a handful of the purple flowering plant and jammed it in one of her saddlebags. Eragon glanced over at her, startled by her abrupt movement. She smiled a bit, "It's poisonous."

"Then why, may I ask, are you grabbing entire handfuls of it?"

"Because," she said, snatching up some more. "It might come in handy later… you never know."

Along with its poisonous plants, the forest gave off an uneasy feel. There was something hostile in the air, as if the trees resented their intrusion. The forest grew denser the farther they traveled. The lack of space forced the dragons to take flight. Without a clear trail to follow, the tough underbrush slowed them. The Beartooth River wound next to them, filling the air with the sound of gurgling water. A nearby peak obscured the sun, casting them into premature dusk.

At the valley's mouth, Mariah realized that although it looked like a slim gash between the peaks, the valley was really as wide as many of the Spine's vales. It was only the enormous size of the ridged and shadowy mountains that made it appear so confined. Waterfalls dotted its sheer sides. The sky was reduced to a thin strip winding overhead, mostly hidden by gray clouds. From the dank ground rose a clinging fog that chilled the air until their breath was visible. Wild strawberries crawled among a carpet of mosses and ferns, fighting for the meager sunlight. Sprouting on piles of rotting wood were red and yellow toadstools.

All was hushed and quiet, sounds dampened by the heavy air. Saphira and Flayme landed by them in a nearby glade, the rush of their wings strangely muted.

"The Varden are hidden at the end of this valley. If we hurry, we might get there before nightfall," said Eragon.

Murtagh grunted, hands on his hips. "How am I going to get out of here? I don't see any valleys joining this one, and the Urgals are going to hem us in pretty soon. I need an escape route."

"Still planning on leaving then?" Mariah asked rhetorically while her brother smirked.

"Don't worry about it," said Eragon impatiently. "This is a long valley; there's sure to be an exit further in." He released Arya from Saphira and lifted the elf onto Cadoc. He looked at Mariah, "Can you watch Arya? I'm going to fly with Saphira and look for the end, and some exits. We'll meet you up ahead."

"Of course," she nodded and watched him scramble onto Saphira's back and strap himself onto her saddle. "Be careful!" Flayme took off after them, just to be safe.

"Let's keep moving," Mark said, clicking his tongue. Snowfire followed, trotting alongside Cadoc and Arya. While Mark led, it gave her a chance to look around and pry at Murtagh a little more. "So you're still planning on leaving?"

"Yes Mariah, now will you stop bothering me about it? I've already made up my mind."

"Nothing's going to change it?"

"No."

"You sure about that?"

"Wait a second-"

"Oh, so you're going to change your mind now?"

"No, look at this." He dismounted and knelt to the ground, touching the dirt gingerly with his fingers. "These tracks…"

"I told you the animals here are big. You thought I was joking." Mark said flatly.

The wolf tracks were exactly that, however much larger. Murtagh placed his hand inside the print and then his other, with enough room to spare. They sunk into the ground by more than an inch.

"Something this large could eat all three of us and still have room for more." He moaned slightly, clearly exhausted.

Mariah nodded, "Then we should be more careful while we're traveling."

"These tracks are still fresh, whatever creature made these is still around here somewhere, and in no hurry either." The prints were fairly close together, indicating a leisurely trot.

"We should hurry and find Eragon again."

The boys nodded in agreement and mounted the horses, continuing through the forest rapidly, keeping an eye out for predators.

They traveled for a while longer when Saphira landed in front of them with a jolt. Flayme was watching the valley behind them. Eragon didn't dismount.

"What's wrong?" Murtagh inquired, sounding angry, worried, and tired all at the same time.

"…I made a mistake," said Eragon. "The Urgals have entered the valley. I tried to confuse them, but I forgot one of the rules of magic, and it cost me a great deal."

"You drained all your energy?" Mariah asked him. "I told you to be careful!"

"I'm sorry!" He said.

Murtagh rubbed his eyes, "I can't believe that the same Urgals have been following us the whole time. They would have to be birds to catch up with us."

"Saphira said they're larger than any we've seen," remarked Eragon.

"That explains it! Saphira, if you're right, then those are Kull, elite of the Urgals. I should have guessed that the chieftan had been put in charge of them. They don't ride because horses can't carry their weight – not one of them is under eight feet tall – and they can run for days without sleep and still be ready for battle. It can take five men to kill one. Kull never leave their caves except for war, so they must expect a great slaughter if they are out in such force."

"Can we stay ahead of them?"

"Who knows?" said Murtagh. "They're strong, determined, and large in numbers. It's possible that we may have to face them. If that happens, I only hope that the Varden have men posted nearby who'll help us. Despite our skill and the dragons, we can't hold off Kull."

"Great." Mark snapped. "We need to get to the end of the valley now."

"Can I eat something first?"

He ground his teeth together and tossed him part of a loaf of bread. Eragon barely caught it in his trembling fingers and chewed on the stale bread gratefully. "How's Arya?"

"Eat your damn bread Eragon so we can go."

"Mark, stop it," Mariah scolded, shooting him a glare. "Her fever's worse. She's been tossing and turning. Her strength is failing. We should fly her ahead now, while she still has time…"

"I'm not leaving you behind," insisted Eragon. "Not with the Urgals so near."

"You should fly ahead with Saphira now."

"No."

"Why are you so stubborn?"

"You're one to talk," he said, shaking his head. "I'm not going to fly ahead without the rest of you, so stop trying to convince me that's what I need to do."

"Fine, but she's not going to live much longer if you choose that."

"Don't say that," said Eragon, pushing himself upright in Saphira's saddle. "We can still save her."

A horn echoed through the dark forest. Mariah's skin crawled and she looked at her brother. "I'm riding with Flayme. We need to go, now." He nodded, taking Cadoc's bridal. She handed off Snowfire's reins to Murtagh, blinking at him. "If you run off with my horse, I'll hunt you down and steal yours." She turned and ran to Flayme, climbing in his saddle and strapping her legs down before he shot off into the sky after Saphira.

* * *

Jierda älfr óst. - Break his neck.

* * *

My spring break's almost over. It went by too soon.

And yes, I'm leaving you on a bit of a cliff hanger... it was difficult to find a good stopping point.

And if you can't tell by these last few and the next chapter, I don't much like traveling sequences that last a long time.

They're sometimes tedious and boring, but I try to make the best of it.

Thanks for reviewing and all the faves. It makes me smile every time I see one in my inbox.

With Love, As Always,

Mariah


	33. Ch 32: Strife

**Chapter Thirty-Two: Strife**

_Mariah?_

_Yes, Eragon?_

_Saphira proposes we attack first._

_What?_ She looked over at him as if he were crazy.

_The Varden would not allow us to return to help if we brought Arya to them now. And I refuse to leave them stranded and at the mercy of the Urgals. However, we can't defeat them… but we might be able to delay them, if we attack first._

_So, what does she suggest?_

_I suggested we drop rocks on them._

Flayme snorted and followed Saphira, banking to the right and quickly descending to the Beartooth River. _And I shall bring down upon them fire like rain. _He grasped a large boulder in his talons and allowed for Mariah to snatch up fist sized rocks.

They glided until they were over the Urgal host. On Saphira's signal, they dropped the boulders and the Riders shot rocks down toward them. There were muffled cracks as the missiles plummeted through the forest top, smashing branches. A second later howls echoed through the valley. Flayme opened his jaws and let loose a stream of fire in front of them, making the dense forest erupt into an inferno. The Urgals scrambled for cover and they turned back to the riverbed.

It was hard work, but they were able to hinder the Urgals' progress – though it was impossible to stop them altogether. The Urgals gained ground whenever they went back for more, so they started taking turns going back and forth to the riverbank. Despite that, their efforts allowed the horse riders to stay ahead of the advancing column.

The valley darkened as the hours slipped by. Without the sun to provide warmth, the sharp bite of frost seeped into the air and the ground mist froze on the trees, coating them white. Night animals began to creep from their dens to peer from shadowed hideouts at the strangers trespassing on their land.

Eragon continued to examine the mountainside, searching for the waterfall that would signify the end of their journey.

_Eragon, every minute we spend is another minute Arya's life fades away. Show me what we're looking for and I'll fly in a different direction to help you locate it._

_Alright,_ he said hesitantly, allowing her to see the image in his mind. Immediately, Flayme veered off and started scouting in the opposite direction of Saphira.

True darkness began to fill the valley, settling over the trees and mountains like an inky cloud. Even with his keen hearing and delicate sense of smell, Flayme could no longer locate the Urgals through the dense forest. There was no moon to help them; it would be hours before it rose above the mountains.

The sky was filled with the afterglow of sunset. The mountains' dark silhouettes curved together and formed a rough bowl that closed off the valley.

_I don't think there's another way out of here…_

_I don't believe so either my dear. I'm afraid Murtagh's only way out is through the Varden as well._

_Stubborn as he is, he may just take his chances with the Kull._

Flayme snorted a laugh and flicked his head.

_Mariah? _Eragon's voice broke into her thoughts, _We've found the waterfall. We're going to rejoin Mark and the others._

_We'll be right there._ She insisted as Flayme tilted back towards Saphira. Mariah dismounted and landed on the ground nearby the dragoness, running to match pace with her brother, leading the horses on foot since the forest was so dense.

Murtagh said, "I saw you dropping rocks – ambitious. Have the Kull stopped or turned back?"

"They're still behind us, but we're almost to the head of the valley."

Mark shook his head, "If it's much further than a mile, I'm afraid we're going to be caught between them and the cliffs."

Eragon ignored him, " How's Arya?"

"She hasn't died," Murtagh said harshly. His breath came in short bursts. His next words were deceptively calm, like those of a man concealing a terrible passion. "Is there a valley or gorge ahead that I can leave through?"

Eragon paused, thinking.

"No. None that I could see," Mariah told him flatly.

Murtagh swore explosively and came to an abrupt stop, dragging on Tornac and Snowfire's reins until they had halted as well. Having been trailing behind him, Mark stumbled and cursed, catching himself before he fell and was trampled by Cadoc and Aluora. "Are you saying that the only place I can go is to the Varden?"

"Yes, but keep running. The Urgals are almost upon us!" Eragon insisted.

"No!" said Murtagh angrily. He stabbed a finger at Eragon. "I warned you that I wouldn't go to the Varden, but you went ahead and trapped me between a hammer and an anvil! You're the one with the elf's memories. Why did you tell me this was a dead end?"

"All I knew was where we had to go, not what lay in between. Don't blame me for choosing to come."

"We need to keep moving; otherwise we're going to be murdered by the Kull. Your choice Murtagh, move or I'm going around you," said Mark briskly, not going to endanger his sister because of his childish attitude.

Murtagh's breath hissed between his teeth as he furiously spun away. All they could see of him was a motionless, bowed figure. Eragon put his hands on his hips, impatience rising.

"What's your quarrel with the Varden? It can't be so terrible that you must keep it hidden even now. Would you rather fight the Kull than reveal it? How many times will we go through this before you trust us?"

There was a long silence.

"Murtagh," said Mariah calmly. "Please… we're going to die if we don't go to the Varden. And if we walk into their arms without knowing what you're so worried about… how they will react to you… well, it's going to be dangerous enough without unnecessary surprises."

Finally Murtagh turned back to them, looking at Mark bristling with exasperation, Eragon clearly impatient as he awaited an answer and Mariah silently pleading with him. His breathing was hard and fast, like that of a cornered wolf. He paused, then said with a tortured voice, "You have a right to know. I… I am the son of Morzan, first and last of the Forsworn."

Eragon was speechless. Saphira came bursting through the trees and brush to his side, gangs barred, tail raised threateningly. Flayme growled low in his throat, crouched tense behind Mariah. She heard more than saw her brother draw his sword and instantly drew her own. Mariah heard Murtagh inhale but her sword clashed against Mark's, not towards him.

"Don't Mark."

"He's the son of Morzan, give me one reason not to kill him right here and now." His voice was quiet and calm, but deadly serious.

"He saved your life… on more than one occasion. If you kill him then you will owe a debt you will never be able to repay and the rest of your life will weigh with the guilt that you would bear." She hissed, stepping closer to him and pressing her sword against his own harder, daring him to disagree with her.

Mark focused on her face in the darkness, his blood pounding in his ears as he sheathed his sword and grabbed the horses' reins. "I say we bring him to the Varden and let them choose what to do with him."

"I didn't choose this!" cried Murtagh, anguish twisting his face. He ripped at his clothes with a desperate air, tearin off his tunic and shirt to bare his torso. "Look!" he pleaded, and turned his back to them.

Eragon leaned forward, straining his eyes in the darkness. There, against Murtagh's tanned and muscled skin, was a knotted white scar that stretched from his right shoulder to his left hip – a testament to some terrible agony.

"See that?" demanded Murtagh bitterly. He talked quickly now, as if relieved to have his secret finally revealed. "I was only three when I got it. During one of his many drunken rages, Morzan threw his sword at me as I ran by. My back was laid open by the very sword you now carry Eragon – the only thing I expected to receive as inheritance, until Brom – stole it from my father's corpse. I was lucky, I suppose – there was a healer nearby who kept me from dying. You must understand, I don't love the Empire or the king. I have no allegiance to them, nor do I mean you harm!" His pleas were almost frantic.

Eragon uneasily lifted his hand from Zar'roc's pommel. "Then your father," he said in a faltering voice, "was killed by…"

"Yes, Brom," said Murtagh. He pulled his tunic back on with a detached air, looking at Mariah, "Your grandfather."

"We know," Mark told him simply, blinking. "Believe me, we know."

A horn rang out behind them.

"We need to run, now." Mark said, convincing Aluora and Cadoc into a tired trot, Murtagh behind him. Murtagh's eyes were fixed straight ahead. Arya was bouncing limply in Cadoc's saddle.

"Your tale is hard to believe. How do I know you aren't lying?" Eragon asked.

Mariah looked over at him in disbelief, but Murtagh beat her to the point.

"Why would I lie?"

"You could be-"

Murtagh interrupted him quickly. "I can't prove anything to you now. Keep your doubts until we reach the Varden. They'll recognize me quickly enough."

"I must know," pressed Eragon. "Do you serve the Empire?"

"No. And If I did, what would I accomplish by traveling with you? If I were trying to capture or kill you, I would have left you in prison." Murtagh stumbled as he jumped over a fallen log.

"You could be leading the Urgals to the Varden."

"Then," said Murtagh shortly, "why am I still with you? I know where the Varden are now. What reason could I have for delivering myself to them? If I were going to attack them, I'd turn around and join the Urgals."

"Maybe you're an assassin," stated Eragon flatly.

"Maybe. You can't really know, can you?"

"Eragon, stop pestering him about it!" Mariah snapped, glaring at him. "We've enough to worry about right now. Please."

The blond snapped his mouth shut and looked forward. The branches hung low and tangled in Mariah's hair, leaving black strands caught in the limbs. The waterfall was growing louder. The horn sounded behind them again. She glanced over her shoulder, expecting Urgals to rush out at them through the darkness. Flayme swept his tail as he followed behind them all, planning on bashing as many as he could before they could get near his lady rider. The waterfall throbbed dully ahead of them, drowning out the sounds of the night.

The forest ended, and they pulled the horses to a stop. They were on a pebble beach directly to the left of the mouth of the Beartooth River. The deep lake, Kóstha-mérna filled the valley, blocking their way. The water gleamed with flickering starlight. The mountain walls restricted passage around Kóstha-mérna to a thin strip of shore on either side of the lake, both no more than a few steps wide. At the lake's far end, a broad sheet of water tumbled down a black cliff into boiling mounds of froth.

"Do we go to the falls?" Mark called over the noise.

"Yes," Eragon took the lead and picked his way along the lake's left side. The pebbles underfoot were damp and slime covered. There was barely enough room for the dragons between the sheer valley wall and the lake; they were walking with two feet in the water.

They were halfway to the waterfall when Murtagh warned, "Urgals!"

Eragon whirled around, rocks spraying from under his heel. By the shore of Kóstha-mérna, where they had been only minutes before, hulking figures streamed out of the forest. The Urgals massed before the lake. One of them gestured at the dragons; guttural words drifted over the water. Immediately the horde split and started around both sides of the lake, leaving them without an escape route. The narrow shore forced the bulky Kull to march single file.

"Run!" barked Murtagh, drawing his sword and slapping the horses on their flanks. Flayme shot into the sky and twisted back towards the Urgals, Saphira following him tightly. Mark muttered a quiet word to Aluora and she darted ahead of Snowfire and Tornac, leading the way. He kept hold of Cadoc's reins, running alongside him, keeping Arya from falling best he could.

"No!" cried Eragon, shouting to his dragoness.

Mariah grabbed his arm, watching Flayme release a jet of fire at the Kull. Saphira dived at the Urgals, bellowing fiercely. They tried to scatter but were trapped against the mountainside. She caught a Kull between her talons and carried the screaming creature aloft, tearing at him with her fangs. The silent body crashed into the lake a moment later, an arm and a leg missing.

Mariah pulled him toward the waterfall, sword in hand. The Kull continued around Kóstha-mérna undeterred. With smoke streaming from his nostrils, Flayme let loose another inferno from his jaws. Suddenly, a cloud of black arrows shot toward them. Most of the darts glanced off the scaled sides of the dragons, leaving no more than bruises, but the few that pierce through their wings caused screeching roars to emit from both dragons.

Eragon flinched at Saphira's scream and Mariah gripped his wrist tighter, pulling him along. They tried to run faster, but the rocks were slippery and they were exhausted. Flayme twisted sky ward and vanished into the clouds.

Then, with a loud splash, Saphira plunged into Kóstha-mérna. She submerged completely, sending ripples across the lake. The Urgals nervously eyed the dark water lapping their feet. One growled something indecipherable and jabbed his spear at the lake.

The water exploded as Saphira's head shot out of the depths. Her jaws closed on the spear, breaking it like a twig as she tore it out of the Kull's hands with a vicious twist. Before she could seize the Urgals himself, his companions thrust at her with their spears, bloodying her nose.

Flayme landed amongst them with a burst of fire, snapping the Kull up in his jaws, crunching down on them one by one. His tail lashed behind him, whipping several into the lake all at once. Claws raked through the air, catching as much flesh as he could find.

Saphira jerked back and hissed angrily at the lances against her nose, beating the water with her tail. Keeping his spear pointed at her, the lead Kull tried to edge past, but halted when she snapped at his legs. The string of Urgals was forced to stop as she held him at bay. Meanwhile, the Kull on the other side of the lake still hurried toward the falls.

Spotting them out of the corner of his fiery eyes, Flayme dropped the Kull from his jaws and soared over to block their way, lighting them aflame as he flew past. With a thud he landed on the shore, bellowing at the front most Urgals, letting them know they weren't about to get past him without a proper fight.

Archers were taking aim at both dragons and Mariah sped them along faster. Eragon concentrated on going faster, but a rock gave under his boot and he pitched forward, nearly sending both of them to the ground. Murtagh grabbed hold of the boy and kept him on his feet. Mariah dared not glance behind her, able to hear agonizing roars from her dragon.

They were almost to the waterfall. The noise was overwhelming, like an avalanche. A white wall of water gushed down the cliff, pounding the rocks below with a fury that sent mist spraying through the air to run down their faces. Four yards from the thunderous curtain, the beach widened, giving them room to maneuver.

Saphira roared as an Urgal spear grazed her haunch, then retreated underwater. With her withdrawal the Kull rushed forward with long strides. They were only a few hundred feet away.

"What do we do now?" Murtagh demanded coldly.

"I don't know. Let me think!" cried Eragon.

Mariah's lips move before she could even think, her hair plastered to her face from the water spraying around her. "Aí varden abr du Shur'tugalar gata vanta!" She shouted.

Nothing happened.

Eragon snatched up a rock the size of an apple, pounded on the cliff next to the falls, shouting, "Aí varden abr du Shur'tugalar gata vanta!" He only succeeded in bruising his hand. His face turned in despair to his companions. "We're trap-"

Saphira leaped out of the lake, dousing them with icy water. She landed on the beach and crouched, ready to fight. Flayme was clawing his way through the Urgals on the other side of them, trying his best to keep them at bay.

The horses backpedaled wildly, trying to bolt. Eragon turned and glimpsed the lead Urgal running at him, heavy spear raised. Up close a Kull was as tall as a small giant, with legs and arms as thick as tree trunks.

Murtagh drew back his arm and threw his sword with incredible speed. The long weapon revolved once, then struck the Kull point first in the chest with a dull crunch. The huge Urgal toppled to the ground with a strangled gurgle. Before another Kull could attack, Murtagh dashed forward and yanked his sword out of the body.

Eragon raised his palm and shouted. "Jierda theirra kalfis!" Sharp cracks resounded off the cliff. Twenty of the charging Urgals fell into the lake, howling and clutching their legs where shards of bone protruded. Without breaking stride, the rest of the Urgals advanced over their fallen companions. Eragon struggled against his weariness, putting a hand on Saphira for support.

Mariah glanced at him, about ready to scold him for using up energy he didn't have, but ducked, hearing her brother shout from behind her. "Stenar rïsa un thrysta unin theirra eyreya!" The pebbles along the shoreline rose into the air and shot into the heads of the oncoming group of Urgals. He smirked, pleased with himself.

"Ears?"

"I meant eyes, sorry."

"At least it worked."

A flight of arrows, impossible to see in the darkness, brushed past them and clattered against the cliff. They ducked, covering their heads. With a small growl, Saphira jumped over them so that her armored sides shielded them and the horses. A chorus of clinks sounded as a second volley of arrows bounced off her scales.

"What now?" shouted Murtagh. There was still no opening in the cliff. "We can't stay here!"

"I don't know! This is where we're supposed to be!" Eragon insisted.

"Why don't you ask the elf to make sure?" demanded Murtagh. He dropped his sword, snatched his bow from Tornac's saddlebags, and with a swift motion loosed an arrow from between the spikes on Saphira's back. A moment later an Urgal toppled into the water.

"Now? She's barely alive! How's she going to find the energy to say anything?"

"I don't _know_," shouted Murtagh, "but you'd better think of _something_ because we can't stave off an entire army!"

"We're doing a well enough job so far," Mark insisted. Shooting another handful of rocks at the Urgals, killing off a few more in the process.

Eragon slammed Zar'roc back into its sheath and exclaimed, "The Varden are on the other side of the lake. We have to go through the waterfall!" He noted with dread that the Urgals across the lake were almost to the falls.

Murtagh's eyes shot toward the violent deluge blocking their way. "We'll never get the horses through there, even if we can hold our own footing."

"Leave that to me," Mark said. "I'll convince them."

"Saphira can carry Arya." Eragon insisted.

Murtagh shrugged. "It's better than being hacked to death." He swiftly cut Arya loose from Cadoc's saddle, and Eragon caught the elf as she slid to the ground.

"Now!" cried Eragon. He and Murtagh heaved Arya onto Saphira, then secured her legs in the saddle's straps. The second they were finished, Saphira swept up her wings and soared over the lake. The Urgals behind her howled as they saw her escaping. Arrows clattered off her belly. The Kull on the other shore redoubled their pace so as to attain the waterfall before she landed. Flayme rushed ahead of her, spewing fire on them to slow their travel.

The horses were calmed back down, thanks to Mark's use of the ancient language. They clearly understood the basics of the message because the four horses tossed their heads, then dashed into the thundering downpour, whinnying as it struck their backs. They floundered, struggling to stay above water. Mark winced as he heard Aluora braying. He shot a glance back at his sister and jumped in after them, grabbing the she-horse's reins and keeping her head above water, pulling her through the falls.

Murtagh sheathed his sword and jumped after them; his head disappeared under a froth of bubbles before he bobbed up, sputtering.

The Urgals were right behind her; she could hear their feet crunching on the gravel. Eragon grabbed her hand and threw her forward after Murtagh before tumbling in after her. She inhaled, closed her eyes and felt cold water envelop her body.

The tremendous weight of the waterfall slammed down on her shoulders with backbreaking force. The water's mindless roar filled her ears. They were driven to the bottom, where her feet hit the bottom of the rocky lakebed. She kicked off with all her strength and shot partway out of the water. Before they could catch a breath of air, the cascade rammed him back underwater.

All she could see was a white blur as foam billowed around her. She gripped Eragon's hand tighter and frantically tried to surface, her lungs burning from the lack of oxygen. She could feel the weight of her sword and clothes dragging her downward. Mariah fought to bring her magic to the surface of her mind, but it was everything she had to focus on not drowning at the moment.

Suddenly Eragon was being wrenched away from her and she let out a gasp, bubbles pooling out of her mouth. She felt something grab her around her waist and haul her out of the water. She inhaled sharply as air hit her face. Mariah stumbled onto the pebble beach, her body trembling from the effort.

Sounds of combat erupted to her right, and she twisted abruptly, expecting Urgals. The monsters on the opposite shore – where they had stood only moments before – fell beneath a withering hail of arrows from crevasses that pockmarked the cliff. Scores of Urgals already floated belly up in the water, riddled with shafts. The ones on their side of the shore were similarly engaged. Neither group could retreat from their exposed positions, for rows of warriors had somehow appeared behind them, where the lake met the mountainsides. All that prevented the nearest Kull from rushing them was the steady rain of arrows – the unseen archers seemed determined to keep the Urgals at bay.

"Akh Guntéraz dorzâda! What were they thinking? You would have drowned!" She looked toward Eragon, standing next to her and saw a dwarf, wringing water out of his long braided beard. His chest was stocky, and he wore a chain-mail jacket cut off at the shoulders to reveal muscular arms. A war ax hung from a wide leather belt strapped around his waist. An iron-bound oxhide cap, bearing the symbol of a hammer surrounded by twelve stars, sat firmly on his head. Even with the cap, he barely topped four feet. He looked longingly at the fighting and said, "Barzûl, but I wish I could join them!"

Eragon drew Zar'roc and looked around, she reached over and put a hand on his forearm to stop him, not thinking that the best idea. Two twelve-foot-thick stone doors had opened in the cliff, revealing a broad tunnel nearly thirty feet tall that burrowed its way into the mysterious depths of the mountain. A line of flameless lamps filled the passageway with a pale sapphire light that spilled out onto the lake.

Saphira and Murtagh stood before the tunnel, surrounded by a grim mixture of men and dwarves. Flayme was off to the side, his fangs barred, shielding Mark behind his foreleg. His talons visibly flexed and he was growling as a few men tried to get closer to his rider's brother. At Murtagh's elbow was a bald, beardless man dressed in purple and gold robes. He was taller than all the other humans – and he was holding a dagger to Murtagh's throat.

"Stop!" Mariah blinked at his command, not having done anything, her eyes trained on her brother, glad he was in a better position than Murtagh. "If you use magic, I'll kill your lovely friend here, who was to kind as to mention you're Riders. Don't think I won't know if you're drawing upon it. You can't hide anything from me." Eragon made a small noise, but the man snarled and pressed the dagger harder against Murtagh's throat. "None of that! If you say or do anything I don't tell you to, he will die. Now, everyone inside." He backed into the tunnel, pulling Murtagh with him and keeping his eyes on the two Riders.

Saphira entered the tunnel herself, eliciting nervous glances from those around her. Reluctantly, Eragon followed her, aware that the warriors' eyes were upon him. Mariah caught up next to him, grabbing the cuff of his sleeve. Their dwarf rescuer walked alongside him with a hand on the haft of his war ax. Flayme trailed along behind, still guarding Mark from the rest of the hostile men. The doors swung shut behind them with only a whisper of sound. Mariah looked back and saw a seamless wall where the opening had exchanged looks with Eragon.

_Trapped… I don't know if I like this._

_Me neither. If this is the Varden… I can't imagine what we're in for. Won't even let you speak._

_I was thinking through a spell._

_Not the brightest idea._

_Probably not, but they had a dagger to Murtagh's throat._

_Have,_ Mariah corrected_. We're not out of this yet. _

Eragon nodded slightly and gripped her hand, pulling her closer to him as more armed men crowded around them. She swallowed and hoped that they would keep their weapons sheathed.

* * *

_Aí varden abr du Shur'tugalar gata vanta!_ - A warden of the Riders lacks passage!

_Jierda theirra kalfis_ - Break their calves!

_Stenar rïsa un thrysta unin theirra eyreya!_ - Stones, rise and thrust into their ears!

* * *

Happy St. Patrick's Day everyone... yesterday at least. ^_^ Hope everyone had a fun, safe holiday!

Might I just say, I hate getting kidnapped after running for days on end from giant horned creatures who have an agenda of killing me and my friends... yeah.

With Love, As Always,

Mariah


	34. Ch 33: Scarred Soliloquy

****Yes, I know, this is weird. Comments at the top of the page? However, I would like to point out that I deleted the last posted 'chapter' that had some review comments in it. Since I liked responding to your reviews, comments and questions so much, I've decided to post them at the bottom of the first page, underneath all the Character Descriptions and Story Updates. Please have a look at them in case you haven't already and check after each new chapter for updates. I'll update the Review Responses as much as the Story Updates. Thanks so much for all your support. If you don't like Murtagh, you're in for a long chapter... have fun, see you at the end of Chapter Thirty-Three.

* * *

**Chapter Thirty-Three: Scarred Soliloquy**

"This way," snapped the bald man. He stepped back, keeping the dagger pressed under Murtagh's chin, then wheeled to the right, disappearing through an arched doorway. The warrior cautiously followed him, their attention centered on the riders and their dragons. The horses were led into a different tunnel. Mariah could hear her brother make a whining noise in his throat behind her as he watched Aluora get dragged off, whinnying.

She stared after Murtagh, watching him lift his chin as the dagger pressed against his throat. Arya was still tied to Saphira's back and she could feel Eragon next to her, bristling with anxiety.

_She has to get the antidote!_ She heard him inside her head and looked at Arya. The elf was going to die right in front of them if she didn't get the Skilna Bragh out of her system fast. Eragon walked faster and pulled Mariah along with, following the bald man through the arched doorway and down a narrow corridor.

The warriors kept their weapons pointed at them. They swept past a sculpture of a peculiar animal with thick quills; Mariah hadn't seen one like it before. The corridor curved sharply to the left, then to the right. A door opened and they entered a bare room large enough for Flayme to move around with ease. There was a hollow boom as the door closed, followed by a loud scrape as a bolt was secured on the outside.

Mariah looked around. Eragon was still gripping Zar'roc tight in his right hand, her own still clasped in his left. The walls, floor, and ceiling were made of polished white marble that reflected a ghost image of everyone, like a mirror of veined milk. One of the unusual lanterns hung in each corner.

"There's an injured-" Eragon began, but a sharp gesture from the bald man cut him off.

"Do not speak! It must wait until you have been tested." He shoved Murtagh over to one of the warriors, who pressed a sword against Murtagh's neck. The bald man clasped his hands together softly. "Remove your weapons and slide them to me." A dwarf unbuckled Murtagh's sword and dropped it to the floor with a clank.

Mariah glanced at Eragon, watching him hesitantly unfasten the sheath and set it, along with Zar'roc, on the floor. He placed his bow and quiver next to them, pulled the jeweled dagger from his waist last and set it on top of the pile, then pushed his weapons toward the warriors.

She was even more hesitant, catching the look on her brother's face as he glared towards their captors, chewing on his tongue as he set his sword and bow on the ground, kicking them away. Flayme still had his teeth barred as he shielded Mark. Carefully, she unbuckled her sword and set it on the ground. Then she pulled a knife from her waist, set it down beside her sword and moved for her dagger in her boot. Standing up again, she gripped the blade tightly in her hand. Mariah glanced around, trying to count how many of them there were. She could cause a lot of damage with a knife. But Eragon was now weaponless, exhausted. They had a knife to Murtagh's throat. Then there was Arya, she couldn't be in the middle of a battle, she would surely die then. Gritting her teeth, she threw the dagger onto the floor, listening to the metal clatter against the stone, the noise reverberating around the room.

"Now step away from your dragon and slowly approach me," commanded the bald man.

Eragon moved forward and she was forced to follow or let him go. When they were a yard away from the man, he said, "Stop there! Now remove the defenses from around your mind and prepare to let me inspect your thoughts and memories. If you try to hide anything from me, I will take what I want by force… which would drive you mad. If you don't submit, your companion will be killed." His eyes flashed to Murtagh.

"Why?" asked Eragon, aghast.

"To be sure you aren't in Galbatorix's service and to understand why hundreds of Urgals are banging on our front door," growled the bald man. His close-set eyes shifted from point to point with cunning speed. "No one may enter Farthen Dûr without being tested."

"There isn't time. We need a healer!" protested Eragon.

"Silence!" roared the man, pressing down his robe with thin fingers. "Until you are examined, your words are meaningless!"

"But she's dying!" retorted Eragon angrily, pointing at Arya.

"It will have to wait! No one will leave this room until we have discovered the truth of this matter. Unless you wish-"

"Vanyali!" Mark shouted. The hall went silent. Mariah turned her head, staring at her brother.

He blinked and the dwarf who had saved Eragon from the lake jumped forward. "Vanyali! Are you blind, Egraz Carn? Can't you see that's an elf on the dragon? We cannot keep her here if she's in danger. Ajihad and the king will have our heads if she's allowed to die!"

The man's eyes tightened with anger, glaring over at Mark. After a moment he relaxed and said smoothly, "Of course, Orik, we wouldn't want that to happen." He snapped his fingers and pointed at Arya. "Remove her from the dragon." Two human warriors sheathed their swords and hesitantly approached Saphira, who watched them steadily. "Quickly, quickly!"

The men unstrapped Arya from the saddle and lowered the elf to the floor. One of the men inspected her face, then said sharply, "It's the dragon-egg courier, Arya!"

"What?" exclaimed the bald man. The dwarf Orik's eyes widened with astonishment. The bald man fixed his steely gaze on the riders and said flatly, "You have much explaining to do."

Eragon returned the intense stare with all the determination he could muster. "She was poisoned with the Skilna Bragh while in prison. Only Tunivor's Nectar can save her now."

The bald man's face became inscrutable. He stood motionless, except for his lips, which twitched occasionally. "Very well. Take her to the healers, and tell them what she needs. Guard her until the ceremony is completed. I will have new orders for you by then." The warriors nodded curtly and carried Arya out of the room. Mariah's attention snapped back to the bald man as he said, "Enough of this, we have wasted too much time already. Prepare to be examined." His gaze was on Eragon.

She felt him tense beside her. The air in the room was strained and she watched Murtagh staring at them intently. Eragon finally bowed his head. "I am ready."

"Good, then-"

He was interrupted as Orik said abruptly, "You'd better not harm him, Egraz Carn, else the king will have words for you."

The bald man looked at him irritably, then faced Eragon with a small smile. "Only if he resits." He bowed his head and chanted several inaudible words.

Mariah squeezed Eragon's hand, pulling away but he stopped her, tightening his grip on her fingers. He gasped with pain and shock before his eyes rolled up into his head. He gritted his teeth, fighting against the pain. His entire body was rigid, jaw locked tightly. Heat radiated from his skin, and a line of sweat rolled down his neck. Suddenly, he shuddered, swayed, then fell toward the floor. Mariah grasped him around his shoulders before he hit the ground and lowered him to the cool marble. She searched over his face and brushed his hair back, swallowing.

Orik exclaimed from behind them, "You went too far! He wasn't strong enough for this."

"He'll live. That's all that is needed," answered the bald man curtly.

There was an angry grunt. "What did you find?"

Silence.

"Well, is he to be trusted or not?"

The words came reluctantly. "He… is not your enemy." There were audible sighs of relief throughout the room.

Eragon's eyes fluttered open and Mariah let out her breath, her mouth twitching into a small smile before she helped him sit up gingerly.

"Easy now," said Orik, wrapping a thick arm around Eragon and helping him to his feet. Mariah grasped his arm and helped steady him as he glared at the bald man. Saphira growled low in her throat.

He turned to Murtagh, who was still being held at sword point. "It's your turn now."

Murtagh stiffened and shook his head. The sword cut his neck slightly. Blood dripped down his skin. "No."

"You will not be protected here if you refuse."

"Eragon has been declared trustworthy, so you cannot threaten to kill him to influence me. Since you can't do that, nothing you say or do will convince me to open my mind."

Sneering, the bald man cocked what would have been an eyebrow, if he had any. "What of your own life? I can still threaten that."

"It won't do any good," said Murtagh stonily and with such conviction that it was impossible to doubt his words.

The bald man's breath exploded angrily. "You don't have a choice!" He stepped forward and placed his palm on Murtagh's brow, clenching his hand to hold him in place. Murtagh stiffened; face growing as hard as iron, fists clenched, neck muscles bulging. He was obviously fighting the attack with all his strength. The bald man bared his teeth with fury and frustration at the resistance; his fingers dug mercilessly into Murtagh.

Mariah watched sympathetically, reaching out her own mind, trying to connect to his but finding the blockade around Murtagh's mind stronger than her own.

Orik scowled darkly as he watched the combatants. "Ilf carnz orodüm," he muttered, then leapt forward and cried, "That is enough!" He grabbed the bald man's arm and tore him away from Murtagh with strength disproportional to his size.

The bald man stumbled back, then turned on Orik furiously. "How dare you!" he shouted. "You questioned my leadership, opened the gates without permission, and now this! You've shown nothing but insolence and treachery. Do you think your king will protect you now?"

Orik bristled. "You would have let them die! If I had waited any longer, the Urgals would have killed them." He pointed at Murtagh, whose breath came in great heaves. "We don't have any right to torture him for information! Ajihad won't sanction it. Not after you've examined the Rider and found him free of fault. _And_ they've brought us Arya."

"Would you allow him to enter unchallenged? Are you so great a fool as to put us all at risk?" demanded the bald man. His eyes were feral with loosely chained rage; he looked ready to tear the dwarf into pieces.

"Can he use magic?"

"That is-"

"Can he use magic?" roared Orik, his deep voice echoing the room. The bald man's face suddenly grew expressionless. He clasped his hands behind his back.

"No."

"Then what do you fear? It's impossible for him to escape, and he can't work any devilry with all of us here, especially if your powers are as great as you say. But don't listen to me; ask Ajihad what he wants done."

The bald man stared at Orik for a moment, his face indecipherable, then looked at the ceiling and closed his eyes. A peculiar stiffness set into his shoulders while his lips moved soundlessly. An intense frown wrinkled the pale skin above his eyes, and his fingers clenched, as if they were throttling an invisible enemy. For several minutes he stood thus, wrapped in silent communication. "They are still unchecked!"

The bald man's gaze shifted to Mariah and she smirked. "If you even try to search my mind, I'll destroy yours."

His mouth twisted into a snarl and he barred his teeth at her. "You insolent little girl-"

"My name is Mariah," she said stiffly. "My grandfather's name was Brom and his dragoness, Saphira. There is nothing you can say to me that won't insult me." The room was silent.

At her words the bald man pressed his lips together, twitching as he formed retaliation in his mind. "Where is your proof then?"

"I will not let you search my mind for proof."

"Then I will force it upon you."

"I know how to destroy yours, so don't rush to search mine," she said in warning. "I will show you what I believe you must know in order to allow me and my brother past. Nothing more, nothing less, and if you try to overpower me in any way, my dragon will eat you alive." Flayme let out a threatening roar at the bald man. "And you will not search my brother's mind either. Torturing two of my companions is enough."

His mouth twisted and his face burned red. Orik looked at him and said, "The girl is frailer than her male companions, she would not be able to take such damage. You have done enough damage for today Egraz Carn."

Mariah looked over at the dwarf and could see he meant well, his words not coming out in a rude way, but she still felt offended. Her cheeks turned pink as she looked to the bald man.

_All of us know you're stronger than the boys are._ Her dragon said politely.

_Thank you Flayme._

_Of course darling. I would also like to tell you that I have no intention of eating anyone, alive or dead._

_I know._

_I was just checking to make sure._

"Fine!" He burst out. The bald man coughed and composed himself again, "Very well."

Mariah collected in her mind the memories she though prevalent enough to share, starting when they left from Carvahall, some of her travels with Mark, nearly all of the time with Brom and Eragon. She left out anything concerning the Ancient Language, personal incidents, and Murtagh's lineage. Since it appeared Eragon hadn't allowed him to intrude on that part of his mind, she wasn't about to either. "Alright. I'm ready." Her eyes flicked to his and she smirked a bit.

He attacked her mind with full force, like she had expected. After years of practice with Brom and Mark however, it wasn't as difficult to keep him out as Eragon had gone through. He tried to overpower her but as soon as Flayme realized what was happening he roared deafeningly loud and force the man to lose his focus. When she had nothing further to share with him she cut him off completely, pulling away and shouting, "That's enough!" His mind continued probing hers and Flayme stepped forward, snarling with his mouth open, the other warriors in the room shifted away from the dragon. The bald man jerked away from the dragon and out of her mind.

Mariah winced and put a hand to her head, wiping away sweat from her eyes. Her feet slipped from beneath her and she tumbled to the floor, catching herself on her arms.

"Mariah!" Eragon knelt down next to her, taking her arm. "Are you alright?"

_Are you alright my dear?_

"_Yes,_" Mariah nodded to turned her gaze back up to the man and stared at him. "I did warn you."

"Your information wasn't sufficient enough. Much of the same was relayed from him." He motioned to Eragon.

"Well, considering we've been traveling together and have lived near one another most of our lives, I would imagine they are very similar. You have your proof that I am Brom's granddaughter, and that is all that you asked for."

"It is… indeed." He said slowly, looking at Mark.

"Don't," she warned again, but he had already attacked him.

Mark's upper lip twitched slightly as he directed his cold gaze toward his intruder. The bald man winced, holding his hand to his forehead and cried out in pain.

Mariah watched her brother's eyes focus on him and called out to him. "Mark!"

He snapped his head over to her, blinking once with a blank expression.

"That's enough… I know I warned him, but you don't have to take it further."

As he regained himself, the bald man flicked his eyes around the room rapidly, now avoiding Mark's general direction entirely. "Leave , now!" He snapped at the warriors. As they filed through the doorway, he addressed them coldly, "Because I was unable to complete my examination, you and your friends will remain here for the night." He motioned to Murtagh and Mark. "They will be killed if they attempt to leave." Mariah opened her mouth to retaliate, but he cut her off. "Your _brother_ because I know nothing in his mind and he can clearly use magic… the other because I was unable to finish. They will be killed if they attempt to leave." With those words he turned on his heel and stalked out of the room, pale scalp gleaming in the lantern light.

"Thank you," whispered Eragon to Orik.

The dwarf grunted. "I'll make sure some food is brought."

"Delva," Mark said.

Orik looked at him strangely for a moment, then nodded. He looked around the room again and muttered a string of words under his breath, then left, shaking his head. The bolt was secured once again on the outside of the door.

Eragon sat on the flood heavily. As soon as the door was shut, Mark ran over to his sister, hugging her and brushing her hair away from her eyes.

"Are you alright?"

"I'm fine," she insisted.

"I was worried when he started searching your mind. You shouldn't have done that."

"There was no reason for him to do so much hunting through my memories. And mine are the same as yours."

Mark smiled a bit and chuckled, "Of course they are."

Murtagh, eyes glazed and empty, leaned against the far wall and slid to the shiny floor. He held his sleeve against the cut on his neck to stop the bleeding.

"Are you all right?" asked Eragon. Murtagh nodded jerkily. "Did he get anything from you?"

Mariah let go of her brother and strode over to Murtagh, kneeling beside him and pulling his sleeve away. He watched her carefully before lowering his arm.

"No."

"How were you able to keep him out? He's so strong." Eragon said.

"I've… I've been well trained." There was a bitter note to his voice as Mariah healed the cut across his throat quietly. When she was finished she gave him a small smile and stood back up, walking to her dragon, looking over his wounds from the battle. Her footsteps echoed through the room.

"I didn't let them know who you are."

Mariah blinked, looking at Eragon for a moment. "Neither did I. It wasn't our place to let them know."

Murtagh looked relieved. He bowed his head. "Thank you for not betraying me."

Beside her, Mark scoffed, shaking his head.

"They didn't recognize you," said Eragon.

"No."

"And you still say that you are Morzan's son?"

"Yes," he sighed.

Mariah heard Eragon stand and Saphira shift so he could heal her wounds. "Waíse heill," she said quietly, brushing her fingers along the gashes and wounds on her sunset-scaled dragon. Mark assisted her once he realized how drained her energy really was.

She sat down on the floor beside her brother, watching Eragon slump against Saphira, breathing hard.

"I hope they bring food soon," said Murtagh.

Eragon shrugged, clearly too exhausted to be hungry. He crossed his arms. "Why are you here?"

"Eragon, is now the best time?"

"When's a better time Mariah?"

She sighed and shook her head.

"What?" asked Murtagh.

"If you really are Morzan's son, Galbatorix wouldn't let you wander around Alagaësia freely. How is it that you managed to find the Ra'zac by yourself? Why is it I've never heard of any of the Forsworn having children? And what are you doing here?" His voice rose to a near shout at the end.

Murtagh ran his hand over his face. "It's a long story."

"We don't have anything better to do," Mark pointed out, standing back up, clearly agitated as he started pacing around the room.

"It's too late to talk."

"There probably won't be time for it tomorrow," Eragon said.

Murtagh wrapped his arms around his legs and rested his chin on his knees, rocking back and forth as he stared at the floor. "It's not a-" he interrupted himself. "I don't want to stop… so make yourself comfortable. My story will take a while."

Eragon shifted against Saphira's side and nodded. Saphira watched both of them intently. Murtagh's gaze shifted to Mariah and she sighed. "You don't have to explain if you don't want to."

"It's… better if you know."

She nodded, "All right then."

Murtagh's first sentence was halting, but his voice gained strength and confidence as he spoke. "As far as I know… I am the only child of the Thirteen Servants, or the Forsworn as they're called. There may be others, for the Thirteen had the skill to hide whatever they wanted, but I doubt it, for reasons I'll explain later.

"My parents met in a small village – I never learned where – while my father was traveling on the king's business. Morzan showed my mother some small kindness, no doubt a plot to gain her confidence, and when he left, she accompanied him. They traveled together for a time, and as is the nature of these things, she fell deeply in love with him. Morzan was delighted to discover this not only because it gave him numerous opportunities to torment her but also because he recognized the advantage of having a servant who wouldn't betray him.

"Thus, when Morzan returned to Galbatorix's court, my mother became the tool he relied upon most. He used her to carry his secret messages, and he taught her rudimentary magic, which helped her remain undiscovered and, on occasion, extract information from people. He did his best to protect her from the rest of the Thirteen – not out of any feelings for her, but because they would have used her against him, given the chance… For three years things proceeded in this manner, until my mother became pregnant."

Murtagh paused for a moment, fingering a lock of his hair. He continued in a clipped tone, "My father was, if nothing else, a cunning man. He knew that the pregnancy put both him and my mother in danger, not to mention the baby – that is, me. So, in the dead of night, he spirited her away from the palace and took her to his castle. Once there, he laid down powerful spells that prevented anyone from entering his estate except a few chosen servants. In this way the pregnancy was kept secret from everyone but Galbatorix.

"Galbatorix knew the intimate details of the Thirteen's lives: their plots, their fights – and most importantly – their thoughts. He enjoyed watching them battle each other and often helped one or the other for his own amusement. But for some reason he never revealed my existence.

"I was born in due time and given to a wet nurse so my mother could return to Morzan's side. She had no choice in the matter. Morzan allowed her to visit me every few months, but otherwise we were kept apart. Another three years passed like this, during which time he gave me the… scar on my back." Murtagh brooded a minute before continuing.

"I would have grown to manhood in this fashion if Morzan hadn't been summoned away to hunt for dragon eggs. As soon as he departed, my mother, who had been left behind, vanished. No one knows where she went, or why. The king tried to hunt her down, but his men couldn't find her trail – no doubt because of Morzan's training.

"At the time of my birth, only five of the Thirteen were still alive. By the time Morzan left, that number had been reduced to three; when he finally faced Brom in Gil'ead, he was the only one remaining. The Forsworn died through various means: suicide, ambush, overuse of magic… but it was mostly the work of the Varden. I'm told that the king was in a terrible rage because of their losses.

"However, before word of Morzan's and the others' deaths reached us, my mother returned. Many months had passed since she had disappeared. Her health was poor, as if she had suffered a great illness, and she grew steadily worse. Within a fortnight, she died."

"What happened then?" prompted Eragon. Mariah noticed Mark had stopped pacing and was standing deathly still in a corner, watching Murtagh evenly with glazed eyes.

Murtagh shrugged. "I grew up. The king brought me to the palace and arranged for my upbringing. Aside from that, he left me alone."

"Then why did you leave?"

A hard laugh broke from Murtagh. "Escaped is more like it. At my last birthday, when I turned eighteen, the king summoned me to his quarters for a private dinner. The message surprised me because I had always distanced myself from the court and had rarely met with him. We'd talked before, but always within earshot of eavesdropping nobles.

"I accepted the offer, of course, aware that it would be unwise to refuse. The meal was sumptuous, but through it his black eyes never left me. His gaze was disconcerting; it seemed that he was searching for something hidden in my face. I didn't know what to make of it and did my best to provide polite conversation, but he refused to talk, and I soon ceased my efforts.

"When the meal was finished, he finally began to speak. You've never heard his voice, so it's hard for me to make you understand what it was like. His words were entrancing, like a snake whispering gilded lies into my ears. A more convincing and frightening man I've never heard. He wove a vision: a fantasy of the Empire as he imagined it. There would be beautiful cities built across the country, filled with the greatest warriors, artisans, musicians, and philosophers. The Urgals would finally be eradicated. And the Empire would expand in every direction until it reached the four corners of Alagaësia. Peace and prosperity would flourish, but more wondrous yet, the Riders would be brought back to gently govern over Galbatorix's fiefdoms.

"Entranced, I listened to him for what must have been hours. When he stopped, I eagerly asked how the Riders would be reinstated, for everyone knew there were no dragon eggs left. Galbatorix grew still then and stared at me thoughtfully. For a long time he was silent, but then he extended his hand and asked, 'Will you, O son of my friend, serve me as I labor to bring about this paradise?'

"Though I knew the history behind his and my father's rise to power, the dream he had painted for me was too compelling, too seductive to ignore. Ardor for this mission filled me, and I fervently pledged myself to him. Obviously pleased, Galbatorix gave me his blessing, then dismissed me, saying, 'I shall call upon you when the need arises.'

"Several months passed before he did. When the summons came, I felt all of my old excitement return. We met in private as before, but this time he was not pleasant or charming. The Varden had just destroyed three brigades in the south, and his wrath was out in full force. He charged me in a terrible voice to take a detachment of troops and destroy Cantos, where rebels were known to hide occasionally. When I asked what I should do with the people there and how we would know if they were guilty, he shouted, 'They're all traitors! Burn them at the stake and bury their ashes with dung!' He continued to rant, cursing his enemies and describing how he would scourge the land of everyone who bore him ill will.

"His tine was so different from what I had encountered before; it made me realize he didn't possess the mercy or foresight to gain the people's loyalty, and he ruled only through brute force guided by his own passions. It was at that moment I determined to escape him and Urû'baen forever.

"As soon as I was free of his presence, I and my faithful servant, Tornac, made ready for flight. We left that very night, but somehow Galbatorix anticipated my actions, for there were soldiers waiting for us outside the gates. Ah, my sword was bloody, flashing in the dim lantern glow. We defeated the men… but in the process Tornac was killed.

"Alone and filled with grief, I fled to an old friend who sheltered me in his estate. While I hid, I listened carefully to every rumor, trying to predict Galbatorix's actions and plan my future. During that time, talk reached me that the Ra'zac had been sent to capture or kill someone. Remembering the king's plans for the Riders, I decided to find and follow the Ra'zac, just in case they _did _discover a dragon. And that's how I found you… I have no more secrets."

They sat in silence for a moment before Eragon spoke aloud, "So why don't you join the Varden? They'll distrust you for a time, but once you prove your loyalty they'll treat you with respect. And aren't they in a sense your allies? They strive to end the king's reign. Isn't that what you want?"

"Must I spell everything out for you?" demanded Murtagh. "I don't want Galbatorix to learn where I am, which is inevitable if people start saying that I've sided with his enemies, which I've never done. These," he paused, then said with distaste, "_rebels_ are trying not only to overthrow the king but to destroy the Empire… and I don't want that to happen. It would sow mayhem and anarchy. The king is flawed, yes, but they system itself is sound. As for earning the Varden's respect: Ha! Once I am exposed, they'll treat me like a criminal or worse. Not only that, suspicion will fall upon you because we traveled together!"

"It isn't that bad," Eragon said, trying to sound optimistic. Murtagh snorted derisively and looked away. "I'm sure that they won't be-" His words were cut short as the door opened a hand's breadth and four bowls were pushed through the space. A loaf of bread and two hunks of raw meat followed.

Before the door could shut again, Mark shouted, "Delva!"

"Finally!" grumbled Murtagh, going to the food. He tossed the meat to Saphira, who snapped it out of the air and swallowed it whole. Flayme snorted at his and licked it up from off the floor. Then he tore a chunk off the loaf, gave the rest to Eragon, picked up his bowl, and retreated to a corner.

Mariah sighed and looked over the bowl of food which didn't look appetizing in the least.

"The rest of the food was with the horses… and they're gone now." Mark pointed out to her.

She nodded and took the half loaf of bread from Eragon. Mariah tore the half in half and handed the rest to her brother. He shook his head, "You need to eat more than I do… go ahead."

"But-"

"I'm not hungry. Eat your food." He insisted, walking around the room, examining the walls.

"If you're trying to find a way out…"

"I'm not."

"Alright then…" she chomped into her bread. "What do you keep saying anyways?"

"What?"

"To the dwarf and then again, at the door."

"_Delva_ is a Dwarvish way of saying 'thank-you'… and earlier I shouted _Vanyali _because the dwarf seemed to be listening better than the bald idiot was. It means 'elf'."

"When did you have time to brush up on your Dwarvish?"

"What did you think I was reading all the time while you three were fighting, training and talking all the time – fairytales?" Mark asked, raising an eyebrow at her.

She paused, "Why were you reading Dwarvish anyway? You didn't know we were coming here."

"Not at first, but after I realized our general course and saw we were headed for the Beors… I thought it was a good idea."

"Not your idea was it?"

He sighed, "No, it was Brom's."

She smirked, "Thought so."

Murtagh put his bowl down, "I'm going to sleep." He stretched out on the floor without another word.

"Good night," Mariah said, blinking surprised. She sighed and looked over at Eragon. He was laying next to Saphira, his arms under his head. She curled her long neck around him, like a cat wrapping its tail around itself, and laid her head alongside his. "Night Eragon."

"Night." Saphira extended one of her wings over him protectively as she fell asleep.

Mark looked at her and nodded. "You should sleep as well."

"And what about you?"

He stretched a bit, "I'm going to stay up a bit longer. I'm a little uneasy."

"If you say so."

"Go to sleep…"

"Night Mark." Mariah told him, curling up against her dragon.

He watched her breathing even out before he flicked his gaze up to Murtagh. Everything about him screamed danger now, especially since he knew his background. For his sister's sake he wouldn't murder him in the night, but he wasn't about to sleep, with him in the same room, any time soon.

* * *

**Dwarvish**

Vanyali – elf

Ilf carnz orodüm - It is one's obligation/fate.

Egraz Carn – Bald One

Delva – A type of compliment. Also a form of gold that dwarves love. – Mark uses it to mean 'thank you'

**Elvish**

Waíse heill – Be healed

* * *

Okay, so I completely understand that Murtagh needs to explain his history, but that was a long ass story to type out… I mean my hands were cramping up while writing it… like three pages single spaced in Word goodness. There's no breathing room in there either.

Finally, that's over. We're in the Varden. Story arc complete! I'm so happy we've made it this far, because I couldn't do it without you. Thank you.

With Love, As Always,

Mariah


	35. Ch 34: Farthen Dur

**Chapter Thirty-Four: Farthen Dûr**

Mariah heard growling and twitched a bit in her sleep.

"Morning." It was Murtagh's voice.

"How long have you been awake?" Eragon's voice asked in a hushed tone.

"Awhile. I'm surprised Saphira didn't wake you sooner."

Saphira growled again, dreaming as she slept.

"I was tired enough to sleep through a thunderstorm," said Eragon wryly. She heard footsteps. "Do you know what time it is?"

"No. It's impossible to tell in here."

"Has anyone come to see us?"

"Not yet."

She grew irritated listening to their conversation and moved to sit up. Mariah looked over at them through tired eyes and sighed. She rubbed her hand across her eyelids as she stood and stretched.

"Sorry, did we wake you?" Eragon asked quietly.

"Yes," she admitted. "It's alright… don't worry about it." Her gaze shifted around the room to her brother, passed out up against Flayme nearby her. She stepped over to him and shook her head. _What time did he fall asleep?_

_Long after the rest of you did. He mostly collapsed from exhaustion. _

_I assumed it would take over him eventually, but he lasted longer than I suspected._

_He'll be better when he wakes well rested. He's just worried about you, you know._

_I know._ She said, nodding before walking over to the boys. They were just sitting together in the silence of the room. Mariah stood nearby them for a while before leaning against the wall, bored. Clearly Eragon was as well, for he kept slipping back into sleep. Before long, he stood and paced around, examining one of the lanterns.

There were voices outside the room. The door opened, and a dozen warriors marched inside. The first man gulped when he saw the dragons. They were followed by Orik and the bald man, who declared, "You have been summoned to Ajihad, leader of the Varden. If you must eat, do so while we march."

Mark growled under his breath at being awoke in such a way and got to his feet, walking over to his sister and the other two boys.

Mark asked, "Where are our horses?"

"And can we have our weapons back?" Eragon added.

The bald man looked at him with disdain. "Your weapons will be returned to you when Ajihad sees fit, not before. As for you horses, they await you in the tunnel. Now come!"

As he turned to leave, Eragon asked quickly, "How is Arya?"

The bald man hesitated. "I do not know. The healers are still with her." He exited the room, accompanied by Orik.

One of the warriors motioned to them. "You go first." Mark brushed past Eragon through the doorway, followed by the rest of them. The dragons trailed behind, dragging their lashing tails along with, forcing the guards to keep their distance. They returned through the corridor they had traversed the night before, passing the statue of the quilled animal. When they reached the huge tunnel through which they had first entered the mountain, the bald man was waiting with Orik, who held the horses' reins.

Mark rushed to Aluora who started nickering at him on sight, tossing her head hard enough to wrench her bridal out of his hand. She pressed her face against Mark's palm and snorted. He stroked his hand down her neck and kissed her nose, whispering pretty words to her. Mariah shook her head, taking Snowfire's reins and climbing on his back, patting his neck.

"You will ride single file down the center of the tunnel," instructed the bald man. "If you attempt to go anywhere else, you will be stopped." When Eragon started to climb onto Saphira, the bald man shouted, "No! Ride your horse until I tell you otherwise."

Eragon shrugged and took Cadoc's reins. He swung into the saddle and guided the horse in front of Saphira. Murtagh mounted Tornac behind Saphira. Mariah fell in behind Murtagh, Mark taking up the rear with Flayme at his back. The bald man examine their small line, then gestured at the warriors, who divided in half to surround them, giving the dragons as wide a berth as possible. Orik and the bald man went to the head of the procession.

After looking them over once more, the bald man clapped twice and started walking forward. She spurred Snowfire gently as the entire group headed toward the heart of the mountain. Echoes filled the tunnel as the horses' hooves struck the hard floor, the sounds amplified in the deserted passageway. Doors and gates occasionally disturbed the smooth walls, but they were always closed.

She marveled at the sheer size of the tunnel, which had been mined with incredible skill – the walls, floor, and ceilings were crafted with flawless precision. The angles at the bases of the walls were perfectly square, and as far as he could tell, the tunnel itself did not vary from its course by even an inch.

As they proceeded, her anticipation about meeting Ajihad increased. The leader of the Varden was a shadowy figure to the people within the Empire. He had risen to power nearly twenty years ago and since then had waged a fierce war against King Galbatorix. No one knew where he came from or even what he looked like. It was rumored that he was a master strategist, a brutal fighter. With such a reputation, she worried about how they would be received, even with her lineage.

The tunnel was obviously dwarf work – no one else could mine with such skill – but were the dwarves part of the Varden, or were they merely sheltering them? And who was the king that Orik had mentioned? Was it Ajihad? Clearly the Varden had been able to escape discovery by hiding underground, but what about the elves? They wouldn't live underground; it was one of the things they most despised. She herself didn't like it very much, feeling trapped inside the mountain.

For nearly an hour the bald man led them through the tunnel, never straying nor turning. They could easily have been taking them all the way through the mountain. At last a soft white glow became visible ahead of them. She strained her eyes, trying to discern its source, but it was still too far away to make you any details. The glow increased in strength as they neared it.

Now she could see thick marble pillars laced with rubies and amethysts standing in rows along the walls. Scores of lanterns hung between the pillars, suffusing the air with liquid brilliance. Gold tracery gleamed from the pillars' bases like molten thread. Arching over the ceiling were carved raven heads, their beaks open in mid-screech. At the end of the hallway rested two colossal black doors, accented by shimmering silver lines that depicted a seven-pointed crown that spanned both sides.

The bald man stopped and raised a hand. He turned to Eragon and glanced at Mariah. "You will ride upon your dragon now. Do not attempt to fly away. There will be people watching, so remember who and what you are."

She dismounted Snowfire and paused on her way to Flayme, looking up at her brother. He nodded, smirking a bit. Leaning down, Mark whispered to her, as to not be overheard, "Yes… they are showing you off. Look pretty will you?... I know it can be difficult." Mark reached over and ruffled her hair up. She was about to pull away before she realized he was fixing it for her. He smiled a bit and straightened up in his saddle.

Mariah narrowed her eyes and pulled herself up onto her dragon's back. He snorted at Mark and let smoke envelop Aluora, who in turn sneezed. Flayme lumbered up next to Saphira. "Ready." Mariah said.

"Good," said the bald man. He an Orik retreated to either side of the dragons, staying far enough back so they were clearly in the lead. "Now walk to the doors, and once they open, follow the path. Go slowly."

Flayme flicked his head forward, indicating Saphira step first. She approached the doors at a measured pace. Her scales sparkled in the light, sending glints of color dancing over the pillars. Flayme was only half a step behind, so his head was level with her shoulders. The blue and red flashes of light occasionally overlapped, leaving a purple after glow.

Without warning, the doors swung outward on hidden joints. As the rift widened between them, rays of sunlight streamed into the tunnel, falling on the dragons and their riders. Temporarily blinded, she raised her hand to her eyes. When they finally adjusted her breath flew from her lungs.

They were inside a massive volcanic crater. Its walls narrowed to a small ragged opening so high above that she could not judge the distance – it might have been more than a dozen miles. A soft beam of light fell through the aperture, illuminating the crater's center, though it left the rest of the cavernous expanse in hushed twilight.

The crater's far size, hazy blue in the distance, looked to be nearly ten miles away. Giant icicles hundreds of feet thick and thousands of feet long hung leagues above them like glistening daggers. Farther down the crater's inner walls, dark mats of moss and lichen covered the rock.

She lowered her gaze and saw a wide cobblestone path extending from the doors' threshold. The path ran straight to the center of the crater, where it ended at the base of a snowy-white mountain that glittered like an uncut gem with thousands of colored lights. It was less than a tenth of the height of the crater that loomed over and around it, but its diminutive appearance was deceiving, for it was slightly higher than a mile.

Long as it was, the tunnel had only taken them through one side of the crater wall. Orik spoke beside them, "Look well, humans, for no Rider has set eyes upon this for nigh over a hundred years. The airy peak under which we stand is Farthen Dûr – discovered thousands of years ago by the father of our race, Korgan, while he tunneled for gold. And in the center stands our greatest achievement: Tronjheim, the city-mountain built from the purest marble." The doors grated to a halt.

Then her heart stopped at the sight of the massive crowd in front of them. She hadn't seen the people; the city had been so beautiful. They lined the cobblestone pathway – dwarves and humans packed together like trees in a thicket. There were hundreds… thousands of them. Every eye, every face was focused on them. And every one of them was silent.

Out of the corner of her eye, she saw Eragon gripping one of Saphira's neck spikes so hard his knuckles were turning white. Her gaze re-focused to the crowd, full of children in dirty smocks, hardy men with scarred hands, women in homespun dresses, and stout, weathered dwarves who fingered their beards. All of them bore the same taut expression – that of an injured animal when a predator is nearby and escape is impossible.

Eragon wasn't moving and she noticed how ridged he was sitting. _Eragon._

_What should I do? _His voice asked frantically.

_Look at me. _His eyes shifted towards her for a moment and she smiled. _Smile and wave at them. You're the first Rider in a hundred years arrived on the back of a blue dragon. You're their best hope for defeating the Empire once an for all... It's alright, just be yourself._

His eyes moved forward again and he tried to force a smile, but his lips only twitched. He slowly pushed a hand into the air, jerking it in a little wave. When nothing happened, he flushed with embarrassment, lowered his arm, and ducked his head. She chuckled silently at his movement and beamed, waving her hand to the crowd from atop Flayme.

A single cheer broke the silence. Someone clapped loudly. For a brief second the crowd hesitated, then a wild roar swept through it, and a wave of sound crashed over them.

"Very good," said the bald man from behind them. "Now start walking."

Eragon sat straighter as Saphira arched her neck and stepped forward. She passed the first row of people, glanced at each side and exhaled a puff of smoke. The crowd quieted and shrank back, then resumed cheering, their enthusiasm only intensified. She seemed happy with herself and flicked her tail.

_I'm thinking fire would be too much at the moment._

_Probably,_ Mariah chuckled to her dragon. _I think smoke's enough for now. _As they proceeded along the path, she couldn't help but notice the jostling crowd in detail. Dwarves greatly outnumbered humans… and many of them glared at them resentfully. Some even turned their back and walked away with stony faces.

The humans were hard, tough people. All the men had daggers or knives at their waists; many were armed for war. The women carried themselves proudly, but they seemed to conceal a deep-abiding weariness. The few children and babies stared at them with large eyes. She couldn't help but know that these people had experienced much hardship and that they would do whatever was necessary to defend themselves.

The Varden had found the perfect hiding place. Farthen Dûr's walls were too high for a dragon to fly over, and no army could break through the entrance way, even if it managed to find the hidden doors.

The crowd followed close behind them, giving the dragons plenty of room. Gradually the people quieted, though their attention remained upon them. She half wished she'd made Mark ride on Flayme instead, not particularly liking all the attention. She glanced back at her brother who simply smiled at her. Murtagh seemed panicked, his face pale as he rode Tornac stiffly.

They neared the city-mountain, and saw that the white marble of Tronjheim was highly polished and shaped into flowing contours, as if it had been poured into place. It was dotted with countless round windows framed by elaborate carvings. A colored lantern hung in each window, casting a soft glow on the surrounding rock. No turrets or smokestacks were visible. Directly ahead, two thirty-foot-high gold griffins guarded a massive timber gate – recessed twenty yards into the base of Tronjheim – which was shadowed by thick trusses that supported an arched vault far overhead.

When they reached Tronjheim's base, Saphira paused to see if the bald man had any instructions. When none were forthcoming, she continued to the gate with Flayme beside her. The walls were lined with fluted pillars of blood-red jasper. Between the pillars hulked statues of outlandish creatures, captured forever by the sculptor's chisel.

The heavy gate rumbled open before them as hidden chains slowly raised the mammoth beams. A four-story-high passageway extended straight toward the center of Tronjheim. The top three levels were pierced by rows of archways that revealed gray tunnels curving off into the distance. Clumps of people filled the arches, eagerly watching the two Riders. On ground level, however, the archways were barred by stout doors. Rich tapestries hung between the different levels, embroidered with heroic figures and tumultuous battle scenes.

A cheer rang in their ears as they stepped into the hall and paraded down it. Eragon raised his hand, eliciting another roar from the throng, though many of the dwarves did not join the welcoming shout. Mariah smiled at him a bit; glad his confidence had been restored.

The mile-long hall ended in an arch flanked by black onyx pillars. Yellow zircons three times the size of a man capped the dark columns, coruscating piercing gold beams along the hall. Saphira stepped through the opening ahead of them, then stopped and craned back her neck, humming deeply in her chest.

They were in a circular room, perhaps a thousand feet across, that reached up to Tronjheim's peak a mile overhead, narrowing as it rose. The walls were lined with arches - one row for each level of the city-mountain – and the floor was made of polished carnelian, upon which was etched a hammer girdled by twelve silver pentacles, like on Orik's helm.

The room was a nexus for four hallways – including the one they had just exited – that divided Tronjheim into quarters. The halls were identical except for the one opposite them. To the right and left of that hall were tall arches that opened to descending stairs, which mirrored each other as they curved underground.

The ceiling was capped by a dawn-red star sapphire of monstrous size. The jewel was twenty yards across and nearly as thick. Its face had been carved to resemble a rose in full bloom, and so skilled was the craftsmanship, the flower almost seemed to be real. A wide belt of lanterns wrapped around the edge of the sapphire, which cast bands of blushing light over everything below. The flashing rays of the star within the gem made it appear as if a giant eye gazed down at them.

Mariah's lips were parted as she stared around the room, mostly up at the ceiling, enamored by the rose carved into the red jewel. Nothing had prepared her for this. It seemed impossible that Tronjheim had been built by mortal beings. The city-mountain shamed everything she had ever seen or heard about. She doubted the capital could match the wealth and grandeur displayed here. Tronjheim was a stunning monument to the dwarves' power and perseverance.

The bald man walked in front of them and said, "You must go on foot from here." There was scattered booing from the crowd as he spoke. A dwarf took the horses away and Mark instantly reverted back to his tired, frustrated state. Eragon dismounted Saphira and looked up at Mariah, glancing around at the crowd for a second before walking over and offering his hand to help her down.

_He's figured it out._

_So it seems,_ Mariah said, smiling at him and taking his hand, stepping down off her dragon. The crowd started muttering amongst themselves and cheered some more. She looked up at Eragon. "Clever," she whispered to him. The quick smirk on his face showed that he knew what she meant and he returned to Saphira's side as the bald man led them across the carnelian floor to the right-hand hallway.

They followed it for several hundred feet, then entered a smaller corridor. Their guards remained despite the cramped space. After four sharp turns, they came to a massive cedar door, stained black with age. The bald man pulled it open and conducted everyone but the guards inside.

They entered an elegant, two-story study paneled with rows of cedar bookshelves. A wrought-iron staircase wound up to a small balcony with two chairs and a reading table. White lanterns hung along the walls and ceiling so a book could be read anywhere in the room. The stone floor was covered by an intricate oval rug. At the far end of the room, a man stood behind a large walnut desk.

His skin gleamed the color of oiled ebony. The dome of his head was shaved bare, but a closely trimmed black beard covered his chin an upper lip. Strong features shadowed his face, and grave, intelligent eyes lurked under his brow. His shoulders were broad and powerful, emphasized by a tapered red vest embroidered with gold thread and clasped over a rich purple shirt. He bore himself with great dignity, exuding an intense, commanding air.

When he spoke, his voice was strong, confident: "Welcome to Tronjheim, Eragon and Saphira. Mariah and Istalri." Flayme snorted at the name, annoyed he had translated it into the ancient language without his permission.

_It's more formal, he probably thinks he's showing you respect, just go along with it._ She insisted.

"I am Ajihad. Please, seat yourselves."

Eragon glanced at Mariah, motioning for her to sit. She figured she should tell him he could drop the act but it was nice for a change. Slipping into an armchair, she listened to the dragons settle in behind them. Ajihad raised his hand and snapped his fingers. A man stepped out from behind the staircase. He was identical to the bald man beside him. Eragon stared at them with surprise, and Murtagh stiffened.

"Your confusion is understandable; they are twin brothers," said Ajihad with a small smile. "I would tell you their names, but they have none."

Saphira hissed with distaste. Ajihad watched her for a moment, then sat in a high-backed chair behind the desk. The Twins retreated under the stairs and stood impassively beside each other. Ajihad pressed his fingers together as he stared at the two riders and their companions. He studied them for a long time with an unwavering gaze.

Eragon squirmed, uncomfortable. Mariah simply met his gaze, letting him think as he wanted about her and her friends, letting her mind wander. _You know, maybe we should change your name… for formalities sake._

_No, I like my name. Why would you change it?_

_Because you chose it when you were just a hatchling, surely you think it's silly now, yes?_

_I do not._

_Not even a little?_

_Well, perhaps… but I do still like it. _

_Should I take to calling you Istalri instead? _

_Definitely not. But perhaps, if you gave me time to choose something more suitable?_

_Of course, take your time in choosing. In the meantime?_

_Flayme will still do my darling._

After what seemed like several minutes, Ajihad lowered his hands and beckoned to the Twins. One of them hurried to his side. Ajihad whispered in his ear. The bald man suddenly paled and shook his head vigorously. Ajihad frowned, then nodded as if something had been confirmed.

He looked at Murtagh. "You have placed me in a difficult position be refusing to be examined. You have been allowed into Farthen Dûr because the Twins have assured me that they can control you and because of your actions on behalf of Eragon, Mariah and Arya. I understand that there may be things you wish to keep hidden in your mind, but as long as you do, we cannot trust you."

"You wouldn't trust me anyway," said Murtagh defiantly.

Ajihad's face darkened as Murtagh spoke, and his eyes flashed dangerously. "Though it's been twenty and three years since it last broke upon my ear… I know that voice." He stood ominously, chest swelling. The Twins looked alarmed and put their heads together, whispering frantically. "It came from another man, one more beast than human. Get up."

Mariah tensed and watched Murtagh warily comply, his eyes darting between the Twins and Ajihad. "Remove your shirt," ordered Ajihad. With a shrug, Murtagh pulled off his tunic. "Now turn around." As he pivoted to the side, light fell upon the scar on his back.

"Murtagh," breathed Ajihad. A grunt of surprise came from Orik. Without warning, Ajihad turned on the Twins and thundered, "Did you know of this?"

The Twins bowed their heads. "We discovered his name in Eragon's mind, but we did not suspect that this _boy_ was the son of one as powerful as Morzan. It never occurred-"

"And you didn't tell me?" demanded Ajihad. He raised a hand, forestalling their explanation. "We will discuss it later." He faced Murtagh again. "First I must untangle this muddle. Do you still refuse to be probed?"

"Yes," said Murtagh sharply, slipping back into his tunic. "I won't let anyone inside my head."

Ajihad leaned on his desk. "There will be unpleasant consequences if you don't. Unless the Twins can certify that you aren't a threat, we cannot give you credence, despite, and perhaps because of, the assistance you have given Eragon and Mariah. Without that verification, the people here, dwarf and human like, will tear you apart if they learn of your presence. I'll be forced to keep you confined at all times – as much for your protection as for ours. It will only get worse once the dwarf king, Hrothgar, demands custody of you. Don't force yourself into that situation when it can easily be avoided."

Murtagh shook his head stubbornly. "No… even if I were to submit, I would still be treated like a leper and an outcast. All I wish is to leave. If you let me do that peacefully, I'll never reveal your location to the Empire."

"What will happen if you are captured and brought before Galbatorix?" demanded Ajihad. "He will extract every secret from your mind, no matter how strong you may be. Even if you could resist him, how can we trust that you won't rejoin him in the future? I cannot take that chance."

"Will you hold me prisoner forever?" demanded Murtagh, straightening.

"No," said Ajihad, "only until you let yourself be examined. If you are found trustworthy, the Twins will remove all knowledge of Farthen Dûr's location from your mind before you leave. We won't risk someone with those memories falling into Galbatorix's hands. What is it to be, Murtagh? Decide quickly or else the path will be chosen for you."

Finally Murtagh spoke, the words slow and distinct. "My mind is the one sanctuary that has not been stolen from me. Men have tried to breach it before, but I've learned to defend it vigorously, for I am only safe with my innermost thoughts. You have asked for the one thing I cannot give, least of all to those two." He gestured at the Twins. "Do with me what you will, but know this: death will take me before I'll expose myself to their probing."

Admiration glinted in Ajihad's eyes. "I'm not surprised by your choice, though I had hoped otherwise… Guards!" The cedar door slammed open as warriors rushed in, weapons ready. Ajihad pointed at Murtagh and commanded, "Take him to a windowless room and bar the door securely. Post six men by the entrance and allow no one inside until I come to see him. Do not speak to him either." The warriors surrounded Murtagh, watching him suspiciously.

"Ajihad, if I may interject," Mariah said, standing abruptly. He raised a hand and the guards halted. "I will allow full search through my mind so that you may learn everything you need about Murtagh. I cannot allow for you to take him as prisoner."

"I'll let you search mine as well, if it would help," Mark said from the back of the room, his eyes focused on his sister. "Since we did not submit to the probing before now."

"That is… noble of you to offer such assistance, however I'm sorry to tell you that I have made up my mind. Nothing short of his own thoughts will appease my peace of mind."

"I must refuse-"

"Lady Rider, I have given my answer." Ajihad told her sternly, "Take him away."

She turned to watch him leave, mouthing, "I'm sorry."

Murtagh shrugged, then started forward resolutely. He vanished into the hallway with the men. The sound of their feet faded into silence.

Ajihad said abruptly, "I want everyone out of this room but our guests. Now!"

Bowing, the Twins departed, but Orik said, "Sir, the king will want to know of Murtagh. And there is still the matter of my insubordination…"

Ajihad frowned, then waved his hand. "I will tell Hrothgar myself. As for your actions… wait outside until I call for you. And don't let the Twins get away. I'm not done with them, either."

"Very well," said Orik, inclining his head. He closed the door with a solid thump.

* * *

_Istalri -_ Flame in Elvish

Hope you liked this chapter!

I might be a little slow to update because I recently got a new job and am quickly heading into exams for school. It's gonna get rough.

Not to get hopes up, but I really want to get through all of Eldest during the summer months, I'm trying to think ahead that far, but it's proving difficult.

I noticed that people sometimes guess at what's going to happen. If you have an idea or suggest, I'm completely open to ideas. I may not take it straight from your words, but I might get some inspiration from your suggestions.

Thanks for reading!

With Love, As Always,

Mariah


	36. Ch 35: Ajihad

**Chapter Thirty-Five: Ajihad**

After a long silence, Ajihad sat with a tired sigh. He ran a hand over his face and stared at the ceiling. They waited impatiently for him to speak. When nothing was forthcoming, Eragon blurted, "Is Arya all right?"

Ajihad looked down at them and said gravely, "No… but the healers tell me she will recover. They worked on her all through the night. The poison took a dreadful toll on her. She wouldn't have lived if not for you. For that you have the Varden's deepest thanks."

Eragon's shoulders slumped with relief. "So, what now?" he asked.

"I need you to tell me how you found Saphira, Istalri, and everything that's happened since," said Ajihad, forming a steeple with his fingers. "Some of it I know from the message Brom sent us, other parts from the Twins. But I want to hear it from you, especially the details concerning Brom's death."

"You have no questions for either of us?" Mark asked, setting a hand on Mariah's shoulder.

"No."

"Despite our refusal to have our minds searched?"

"You two, raised by Brom? No. I do not have any need to worry about you. I am content with what information Mariah has already provided. I feel confident that you are both trustworthy and intend us no harm."

"Your generosity is appreciated." Mark said. Mariah could hear the tinge of sarcasm in his voice.

So, together they began their story. Mariah started, since she had found Flayme's egg first, with Brom. Eragon added in his own parts. When their stories diverged, Ajihad patiently listened to both pieces as they came together again.

They talked for hours, often pausing between words. They told Ajihad of Teirm, though Mariah noticed Eragon avoided speaking about Angela's fortunetelling, about how they had found the Ra'zac. She was surprised to listen to him talk about his dreams of Arya. When they arrived at the point where they had reached Gil'ead and mentioned the Shade, Ajihad's face hardened, and he leaned back with veiled eyes.

After a moment, they continued on. When the narrative was complete, Eragon fell silent. Ajihad stood, clasped his hands behind his back, and absently studied one of the bookshelves. After a time he returned to the desk.

"Brom's death is a terrible loss. He was a close friend of mine and a powerful ally of the Varden. I am sorry that you lost him," he said, looking at Mariah and Mark. "He saved us from destruction many times through his bravery and intelligence. Even now, when he is gone, he's provided us with the one thing that can ensure our success – you. With Riders on our side, we can succeed."

"But… what can you expect us to accomplish?" asked Eragon.

"I will explain it in full," said Ajihad, "but there are more urgent matters to be dealt with first." The news of the Urgals' alliance with the Empire is extremely serious. If Galbatorix is gathering an Urgal army to destroy us, the Varden will be hard pressed to survive, even though many of us are protected here in Farthen Dûr. That a Rider, even one as evil as Galbatorix, would consider a pact with such monsters is indeed proof of madness. I shudder to think of what he promised them in return for their fickle loyalty. And then there is the Shade. Can you describe him?"

Eragon nodded. "He was tall, thin, and very pale, with red eyes and hair. He was dressed all in black."

"His voice felt on my ears like an ember would on my skin, searing and burning but never truly catching fire. If he ever was human, I would have thought him a horrible person on sight." Mariah added.

"What of his sword – did you see it?" asked Ajihad intensely.

"More closely than I would have liked," Mariah admitted, nodding.

"Did it have a long scratch on the blade?"

"Yes, how did you know?"

"Because I put it there while trying to cut out his heart," said Ajihad with a grim smile. "His name is Durza – one of the most vicious and cunning fiends to ever stalk this land. He is the perfect servant for Galbatorix and a dangerous enemy for us. You say that you killed him. How was it done?"

Eragon remembered it vividly. "Murtagh shot him twice. The first arrow caught him in the shoulder; the second one struck him between the eyes."

"I was afraid of that," said Ajihad, frowning, "You didn't kill him. Shades can only be destroyed by a thrust through the heart. Anything short of that will cause them to vanish and then reappear elsewhere in spirit form. It's an unpleasant process, but Durza will survive and return stronger than ever."

"I had a feeling," Mark muttered under his breath.

A moody silence settled over them like a foreboding thunderhead. Then Ajihad stated, "You are an enigma, a quandary that no one knows how to solve. Everyone knows what the Varden want – or the Urgals, or even Galbatorix – but no one knows what _you_ want. And that makes you dangerous, especially to Galbatorix. He fears you because he doesn't know what you will do next. And it's worse because there are two of you, and you are clearly companions. It would be one thing for there to be two Riders who had never met before, but having two Riders who have known each other since infancy, well, it causes more trouble for the rest of us."

"Do the Varden fear us?" asked Eragon quietly.

"No," said Ajihad carefully. "We are hopeful. But I that hope proves false, then yes, we will be afraid." Eragon looked down. "You must understand the unusual nature of your position. There are factions who want you to serve their interests and no one else's. The moment you entered Farthen Dûr, their influence and power began tugging on you."

"Including yours?" asked Eragon.

Ajihad chuckled, though his eyes were sharp. "Including mine. There are certain things you should know: first is how Istalri and Saphira's eggs happened to appear in the Spine. Did Brom ever tell you what was done with her egg after he brought it here?"

"No," said Eragon, glancing at Saphira. She blinked and flicked her tongue at him.

"Yes." Mariah blinked, looking up at her brother. He had since turned to the bookshelves, looking over their spines. Now, he turned to glance at Ajihad, avoiding his sister's gaze. "Brom mentioned it once to me."

"Why did he tell you?" Mariah asked.

"He told me lots of things he didn't tell you. You're too young to understand them. Don't complain."

"Mark-"

"I told you, don't complain."

Ajihad tapped his desk, "Well. I will tell you, since the two of you do not know. And I would like to know if my version corresponds with yours."

Mark nodded to him.

"When Brom first brought the egg to the Varden, everyone was deeply interested in its fate. We had thought the dragons were exterminated. The dwarves were solely concerned with making sure that the future Rider would be an ally – though some of them were opposed to having a new Rider at all – while the elves and Varden had a more personal stake in the matter. The reason was simple enough: throughout history all the Riders have been either elven or human, with the majority being elven. There has never been a dwarf Rider."

"-why do you keep saying _Rider_ instead of _Riders_?" Mariah asked.

"Oh, simply because Saphira's egg was the one brought to us. Istalri's was hidden away, now I believe by the elves. I'm sure they wanted security of their own. I had not known of the existence of a second dragon egg much before now. It was only in Brom's letter that I discovered it."

Mariah blinked, trying to process the information as he continued.

"Because of Galbatorix's betrayals, the elves were reluctant to let any of the Varden handle the egg for fear that the dragon inside would hatch for a human with similar instabilities. It was a challenging situation, as both sides wanted the Rider for their own. The dwarves only aggravated the problem by arguing obstinately with both the elves and us whenever they had the chance. Tensions escalated, and before long, threats were made that were later regretted. It was then that Brom suggested a compromise that allowed all sides to save face.

"He proposed that the egg be ferried between the Varden and the elves every year. At each place children would parade past it, and the bearers of the egg would wait to see if the dragon would hatch. If it didn't, they would leave and return to the other group. But if the dragon _did_ hatch, the new Rider's training would be undertaken immediately. For the first year or so he or she would be instructed here, by Brom. Then the Rider would be taken to the elves, who would finish their education.

"The elves reluctantly accepted this plan… with the stipulation that if Brom were to die before the dragon hatched, they would be free to train the new Rider without interference. The agreement was slanted in their favor – we both knew that the dragon would likely choose and elf – but it provided a desperately needed semblance of equality. Now however, since I know of Istalri, I realize how truly set they were upon keeping the new Riders to themselves."

_He's calling you that because you are the elves' dragon._

_He speaks my name in Elvish because he believes us to be allied with them?_

_I don't know why he would think that… I am of blood relation to Brom and am human…_

_Let him do as he wishes, I want to hear more. Do not interrupt the man._

Ajihad paused, his rich eyes somber. Shadows bit into his face under his cheekbones, making them jut out. "It was hoped that this new Rider would bring our two races closer together. We waited for well over a decade, but the egg never hatched. The matter passed from our minds, and we rarely thought about it except to lament the egg's inactivity.

"Then last year we suffered a terrible loss. Arya and the egg disappeared on her return from Tronjheim to the elven city Osilon. The elves were the first to discover she was missing. They found her steed and guards slain in Du Weldenvarden and a group of slaughtered Urgals nearby. But neither Arya nor the egg was there. When this news reached me, I feared that Urgals had both of them and would soon learn the location of Farthen Dûr and the elves' capital, Ellesméra, where their queen, Islanzadí, lives. Now I understand they were working for the Empire, which is far worse.

"We won't know exactly what occurred during the attack until Arya wakes, but I have deduced a few details from what you've said." Ajihad's vest rustled as he leaned his elbows on the desk. "The attack must have been swift and decisive, else Arya would have escaped. Without any warning, and deprived of a place to hide, she could have done only one thing – used magic to transport the eggs elsewhere. She must have been carrying them both with her, because it is unlikely that both would end up in the same place at the same time otherwise. Perhaps Islanzadí thought it time for us to know about the second."

"She can use magic?" asked Eragon.

Mariah glanced over at him, "…you didn't assume she could – she's an elf?"

"She mentioned that she had been given a drug to suppress her power, but I didn't want to assume…"

"It was one of the reasons why she was chosen to guard the egg. Anyway, Arya couldn't have sent them to us – she was too far away – and the elves' realm is warded by arcane barriers that prevent anything from entering their borders through magical means. She must have thought of Brom and, in desperation, sent the egg toward Carvahall. Without time to prepare, I'm not surprised she missed by the margin she did. The Twins tell me it is an imprecise art."

"I'm amazed her aim was so accurate," Mark told him. "The type of magic she was using is extremely powerful. And if she had never stepped foot in Palancar Valley, her mind would not have known where to place the eggs precisely. The mere fact she survived such a spell makes me think very highly of her."

The man looked at Mark, "So you can use magic as well. And very successfully from the sounds of it."

"Oh, was that fact not mentioned before? My apologies. Yes. I am very skilled with magic Ajihad. But you have nothing to worry about from me, I'm only here for my sister."

Eragon started slowly, "Why… was she closer to Palancar Valley than the Varden? Where do the elves really live? Where is this… Ellesméra?"

Ajihad's keen gaze bored into Eragon as he considered the question. "Then you don't know?

"I know already anyway, it's not like it's going to matter if you tell us now."

He blinked up at Mark, "Is there much you don't know?"

"Afraid not. Brom has made well sure that I know what to do in any situation."

"I see… well, Eragon then, I don't tell you this lightly, for the elves guard the knowledge jealously. But you should know, and I do this as a display of trust. Their cities lie far to the north, in the deepest reaches of the endless forest Du Weldenvarden. Not since the Riders' time has anyone, dwarf or human, been elf-friend enough to walk in their leafy halls. I do not even know how to find Ellesméra." He looked at Mark, expecting him to say something. Mark simply shook his head and he continued, "As for Osilon… based on where Arya disappeared, I suspect it near Du Weldenvarden's western edge, toward Carvahall. You must have many other questions, but bear with me and keep them until I have finished."

_Mark?_

_Later Mariah, listen now._

Ajihad gathered his memories, then spoke at a quickened pace. "When Arya disappeared, the elves withdrew their support from the Varden. Queen Islanzadí was especially enraged and refused any further contact with us. As a result, even though I received Brom's message, the elves are still ignorant of you and your dragons… Without their supplies to sustain my troops, we have fared badly these past months in skirmishes with the Empire.

"With Arya's return and your arrival, I expect the queen's hostility will abate. The fact that you rescued Arya will greatly help our case with her. Your training, however, is going to present a problem for both Varden and elves. Brom obviously had a chance to teach you, but we need to know how thorough he was. For that reason, you'll have to be tested to determine the extent of your abilities. Also, the elves will expect you to finish your training with them, though I'm not sure if there's time for that."

"Why not?" asked Eragon.

"For several reasons. Chief among them, the tidings you brought about the Urgals," said Ajihad, his eyes straying to Saphira. "You see, the Varden are in an extremely delicate position. On one hand, we have to comply with the elves' wishes if we want to keep them as allies. At the same time, we cannot anger the dwarves if we wish to lodge in Tronjheim."

"Aren't the dwarves part of the Varden?" asked Eragon.

Ajihad hesitated. "In a sense, yes. They allow us to live here and provide assistance in our struggle against the Empire, but they are loyal only to their king. I have no power over them except for what Hrothgar gives me, and even he often has trouble with the dwarf clans. The thirteen clans are subservient to Hrothgar, but each clan chief wields enormous power; they choose the new dwarf king when the old one dies. Hrothgar is sympathetic to our cause, but many of the chiefs aren't. He can't afford to anger them unnecessarily or he'll lose the support of his people, so his actions on our behalf have been severely circumscribed."

"These clan chiefs," said Eragon, "are they against us as well?"

Even more so, I'm afraid," said Ajihad wearily. "There has long been enmity between dwarves and dragons – before the elves came and made peace, dragons made a regular habit of eating the dwarves' flocks and stealing their gold – and the dwarves are slow to forget past wrongs. Indeed, they never fully accepted the Riders or allowed them to police their kingdom. Galbatorix's rise to power has only served to convince many of them that it would be better never to deal with Riders or dragons ever again." He directed his last words as Saphira and Flayme.

Eragon said slowly, "Why doesn't Galbatorix know where Farthen Dûr and Ellesméra are? Surely he was told of them when he was instructed by the Riders."

"Told of them, yes – shown where they are, no. It's one thing to know that Farthen Dûr lies within these mountains, quite another to find it. Galbatorix hadn't been taken to either place before his dragon was killed. After that, of course, the Riders didn't trust him. He tried to force the information out of several Riders during his rebellion, but they chose to die rather than reveal it to him. As for the dwarves, he's never managed to capture one alive, though it's only a matter of time."

"Then why doesn't he just take an army and march through Du Weldenvarden until he finds Ellesméra?"

"Because the elves still have enough power to resist him," said Ajihad. "He doesn't dare test his strength against theirs, at least not yet. But his cursed sorcery grows stronger each year. With another Rider at his side, he would be unstoppable. He keeps trying to get one of his two eggs to hatch, but so far he's been unsuccessful."

"Wait, how can his power be increasing? The strength of his body limits his abilities – it can't build itself up forever." Mariah leaned forward, confused.

"We don't know," Ajihad told her, shrugging his broad shoulders, "and neither do the elves. We can only hope that someday he will be destroyed by one of his own spells." He reached inside his vest and somberly pulled out a battered piece of parchment. "Do you know what this is?" he asked, placing it on the desk.

Eragon bent forward alongside Mariah an examined it. Lines of black script, written in an alien language, were inked across the page. Large sections of the writing had been destroyed by blots of blood. One edge of the parchment was charred. "No… I don't." Eragon said.

"May I?" Mark asked, stepping forward. Ajihad nodded and he looked over the paper, narrowing his eyes and pulling his head away to focus the words, he squinted more. "Where did you get this?" He asked. Mariah could tell he was buying his time, trying to decipher the lettering.

"It was taken from the leader of the Urgal host we destroyed last night. It cost us twelve men to do so – they sacrificed themselves so that you might escape safely. The writing it the king's invention, a script he uses to communicate with his servants. It took me a while, but I was able to devise its meaning, at least where it's legible. It reads:

…_gatekeeper at Ithrö Zhâda is to let this bearer and his minions _

_pass. They are to be bunked with the others of their kind and by… _

…_but only if the two factions refrain from fighting. Command will_

_Be given under Tarok, under Gashz, under Durza, under Ushnark the Mighty._

"Ushnark is Galbatorix. It means 'father' in the Urgal tongue, an affectation that pleases him.

_Find what they are suitable for and… The footmen and…_

_Are to be kept separate. No weapons are to be distributed until… for marching._

"Nothing else can be read past there, except for a few vague words," said Ajihad.

"Where's Ithrö Zhâda? I've never heard of it." Eragon asked.

"Rebel Doom…" Mark looked up from the paper, "Is the Urgal translation. They must be using that to name and existing place for their own purposes. So no one else knows what they mean."

"Precisely," said Ajihad. "After deciphering this, I asked myself what hundreds of Urgals were doing by the Beor Mountains where you first saw them and where they were going. The parchment mentions, 'others of their kind', so I assume there are even more Urgals at their destination. There's only one reason for the king to gather such a force – to forge a bastard army of humans and monsters to destroy us.

"For now, there is nothing to do but wait and watch. Without further information we cannot find this Ithrö Zhâda. Still, Farthen Dûr has not yet been discovered, so there is hope. The only Urgals to have seen it died last night."

"How did you know we were coming?" asked Eragon. "One of the Twins was waiting for us, and there was an ambush in place for the Kull.

"We have sentinels placed at the entrance of the valley you traveled through - on either side of the Beartooth River. They sent a dove to warn us," explained Ajihad.

"When the eggs and Arya disappeared, did you tell Brom? He said that he hadn't heard anything from the Varden."

"We tried to alert him," said Ajihad, "but I suspect our men were intercepted and killed my the Empire. Why else would the Ra'zac have gone to Carvahall? After that, Brom was traveling with you, and it was impossible to get word to him. I was relieved when he contacted me via messenger from Teirm. It didn't surprise me that he went to Jeod; they were old friends. And Jeod could easily send us a message because he smuggles supplies to us through Surda.

"All of this has raised serious questions. How did the Empire know where to ambush Arya and, later, our messengers to Carvahall? How has Galbatorix learned which merchants help the Varden? Jeod's business has been virtually destroyed since you left him, as have those of other merchants who support us. Every time one of their ships set sail, it disappears. The dwarves cannot give us everything we need, so the Varden are in desperate need of supplies. I'm afraid that we have a traitor, or traitors, in our midst, despite our efforts to examine people's minds for deceit."

Mark shifted away from the desk again and returned to his browsing through the bookshelves. Mariah glanced at him and sat patiently, waiting for someone to speak. It had been a long time since she didn't have any questions. Nearly everything she had been wondering about was being answered, however it lead to new ones popping into her mind. Most of all, about Mark.

"What do you want from us?" Eragon asked.

Mariah flicked her gaze back to Ajihad.

"How do you mean?"

"I mean, what is expected of us in Tronjheim? You and the elves have plans for us, but what if I don't like them?" Mariah could hear his voice tense, a tiny hint of anger slipping in. "I'll fight when needed, revel when there's occasion, mourn when there is grief, and die if my time comes… but I don't let anyone use me against my will." He paused to let the words sink in. "The Riders of old were arbiters of justice above and beyond the leaders of their time. I don't claim that position – I doubt people would accept such oversight when they've been free of it all their lives, especially from one as young as me. But I _do_ have power, and I will wield it as I see fit. What I want to know is how _you_ plan to use me. Then I will decide whether to agree to it."

Ajihad looked at him wryly. "If you were anyone else and were before another leader, you would likely have been killed for that insolent speech. What makes you think I will expose my plans just because you demand it?" Eragon's face flushed but he did not lower his gaze.

"Because if you don't, we leave." Mark told him flatly, not bothering to turn and face him. "Eragon's a bit of a fool when he opens his mouth, but he means well and despite his brazen approach, he's right. If you don't tell us exactly what you're planning to do with us, we can choose not to fight with you."

"I don't believe you're a Rider, so why would your words influence me?"

"I'm not a Rider, nor did I ever say I was. I am, however, Brom's grandson, with whom he trusted valuable information. So, I believe it a fair exchange. You tell us your plans and I'll stick around and possibly let you know a few things."

Ajihad shook his head, "And you said Eragon's approach was brazen? Your words are more biting than his."

"I'm afraid he's always like that," Mariah told him simply, glaring at Mark, who expertly ignored her looks.

Ajihad looked back at Eragon. "You are right. Your position gives you the privilege to say such things. You cannot escape the politics of your situation – you _will_ be influenced, one way or another. I don't want to see you become a pawn of any one group or purpose and more than you do. You must retain your freedom, for in it lays your true power: the ability to make choices independent of any leader or king. My own authority over you will be limited-"

"To zero," Mark muttered under his breath.

"-but I believe it's for the best. The difficulty lies in making sure that those with power include you in their deliberations. Also, despite your protests, the people here have certain expectations of you. They are going to bring you their problems, no matter how petty, and demand that you solve them." Ajihad leaned forward, his voice deadly serious. "There will be cases where someone's future will rest in your hands… with a word you can send them careening into happiness or misery. Young women will seek your opinion on whom they should marry. Many will pursue you as a husband, Eragon. And many men for you as their wife, Mariah… although it appears they'll have to go through your brother first." He glanced up at Mark who had fixed Ajihad with a death glare. "Old men will ask which of their children should receive an inheritance. You _must _be kind and wise with them all, for they put their trust in you. Don't speak flippantly or without thought, because your words will have impact far beyond what you intend."

Ajihad leaned back, his eyes hooded. "The burden of leadership is being responsible for the well-being of the people in your charge, Eragon. I have dealt with it from the day I was chosen to head the Varden, and now you must as well. Be careful. I won't tolerate injustice under my command. Don't worry about your youth and inexperience; they will pass soon enough."

"But you still haven't said what we're to do here." Eragon pointed out slowly.

"For now, nothing. You covered over a hundred and thirty leagues in eight days, a feat to be proud of. I'm sure that you'll appreciate rest. When you've recovered, we will test your competency in arms and magic. After that – well, I will explain your options, and then you'll have to decide your course. Mariah, I would think it best you rest as well, and then we shall talk of what you should do."

Her face started burning. "What do you mean?"

"I mean you should rest and try to figure out if you would like to practice healing magic with those who reside here in Farthen Dûr."

"Though I do need practice with healing magic, I don't believe anyone here can help me learn more than what knowledge I already have. It seem you're trying to avoid me leading… fighting… all together, want me to stay out of the way. You directed all of your previous comments toward Eragon, not me."

"You are young yet and I don't believe you are competent enough to take on such strenuous responsibilities." Ajihad told her.

Her gaze flicked to Mark who was watching her out of the corner of his eye. He flipped a page in the book he was skimming, clearly ignoring her looks.

"I am not a frail child to be coddled and protected. I turn sixteen before the end of summer and I can fight."

"Though you may be capable of wielding a sword, it does not mean you are competent with one. Eragon have you any more questions?"

"What about Murtagh?" asked Eragon bitingly. Mariah's face burned hotter as she was ignored and had to bite her tongue to avoid any yelling.

_Relax darling… finish this conversation completely before you complain. It would not be wise to anger him before we know all the information he holds…_ Flayme said, his tail flicking.

Ajihad's face darkened. He reached beneath his desk and lifted up Zar'roc. The sword's polished sheath gleamed in the light. Ajihad slid his hand over it, lingering on the etched sigil. "He will stay here until he allows the Twins into his mind."

"You can't imprison him," argued Eragon. "He's committed no crime!" Mariah reached over and set her hand on his arm, trying to convince him to calm back down. It wouldn't do any good.

"We can't give him his freedom without being sure that he won't turn against us. Innocent or not, he's potentially as dangerous to us as his father was," said Ajihad with a hint of sadness.

"He's not a Rider," Mariah said, looking at him. "He's not his father."

"How were you able to recognize his voice?" Eragon asked.

"I met his father once," said Ajihad shortly. He tapped Zar'roc's hilt. "I wish Brom had told me he had taken Morzan's sword. I suggest that you don't carry it within Farthen Dûr. Many here remember Morzan's time with hate, especially the dwarves."

"I'll remember that," promised Eragon.

Ajihad handed Zar'roc to him. "That reminds me, I have Brom's ring, which he sent as confirmation of his identity. I was keeping it for when he returned to Tronjheim. Now that he's dead, I suppose it belongs to you." Mariah watched him open a desk drawer and take the ring from it. He set it down on the top of the walnut desk gently. The symbol cut into the face of the sapphire was identical to the tattoo on Arya's shoulder.

"Eragon. Take it." Mark said.

"It should go to you Mark," he said, looking up at him, surprised.

"It matches Saphira… besides I already have one." He said, flashing the gold ring around his finger, inset with emeralds. Brom had given it to him when he was starting to learn magic, teaching him how to store power in it for when he would need it most.

"Mariah." She looked at Eragon. "You've more claim to it than me… I know Mark said-"

"He's right, take it. I want you to have it."

Hesitantly, he took it and slipped the ring onto his index finger, admiring how it caught the light. "I… I am honored."

"It wouldn't fit on my hand anyway," she said, smiling.

He nodded back at her, his lips twitching upward slightly.

Ajihad pushed back his chair and stood. He faced Saphira and Flayme and spoke to them, his voice swelling with power. "Do not think that I have forgotten you, O mighty dragons. I have said these things as much for your benefit as for your Riders'. It is even more important that you know them, for to you falls the task of guarding them in these dangerous times. Do not underestimate your might, nor falter at their side, because without you, they will surely fail."

Flayme snorted, shifting his tail and lifting his head up to look at the man. Saphira lowered her head until their eyes were level and stared at him through slitted black pupils. Ajihad was the first to move. He lowered his eyes and said softly, "It is indeed a privilege to meet you."

Saphira swung her head around to face Eragon. He opened his mouth and then hesitated. Mariah glanced at Flayme, noticing him watching the boy expectantly. "Saphira wants me to tell you that she is impressed both with Tronjheim and with you. The Empire is right to fear you… however, if you had decided to kill me, she would have destroyed Tronjheim and torn you apart with her teeth."

Flayme twisted his head back to Ajihad, blowing smoke at him, filling the room for a moment.

"I take it Istalri agrees…"

"Yes." Mariah nodded.

Ajihad said, "I would expect nothing less from one so noble – but I doubt you could have gotten past the Twins."

"Then they must be much stronger than they appear. I think they would be sorely dismayed if they ever faced a dragon's wrath. The two of them might be able to defeat me, but never Saphira." Eragon said.

"A Rider's dragon strengthens our magic beyond what a normal magician might have. Brom was always weaker than us because of that. I think that in the absence of Riders, the Twins have overestimated their power…" Mariah said, "In our opinion."

Ajihad looked troubled. "Brom was considered one of our strongest spell weavers. Only the elves surpassed him. If what you say is true, we will have to reconsider a great many things." He bowed to the dragons. "As it is, I am glad it wasn't necessary to harm either of you." Saphira dipped her head in return. Flayme flicked his tail, holding his gaze on the man.

Ajihad straightened with a lordly air and called, "Orik!" The dwarf hurried into the room and stood before the desk, crossing his arms. Ajihad frowned at him, irritated. "You've caused me a great deal of trouble, Orik. I've had to listen to one of the Twins complain all morning about your insubordination. They won't let it rest until you are punished. Unfortunately they're right. It's a serious matter that cannot be ignored. An accounting it due."

Orik's eyes flicked toward Eragon, but his face betrayed no emotion. He spoke quickly in rough tones. "The Kull were almost around Kóstha-mérna. They were shooting arrows at the dragons, their Riders and the man, but the Twins did nothing to stop it. Like… sheilven, they refused to open the gates even though we could see Mariah and Eragon shouting the opening phrase on the other side of the waterfall. And they refused to take action when Eragon and Mariah did not rise from the water. Perhaps I did wrong, but I couldn't let the Riders die."

"We would have drowned if he hadn't pulled us out of the water… we weren't strong enough to surface." Mariah said to Ajihad.

He glanced at her, then asked Orik seriously, "And later, why did you oppose them?"

Orik raised his chin defiantly. "It wasn't right for them to force their way into Murtagh's mind. But I wouldn't have stopped them if I'd known who he was."

"No, you did the right thing, though it would be simpler if you hadn't. It isn't our place to force our way into people's minds, no matter who they are." Ajihad fingered his dense beard. "Your actions were honorable, but you did defy a direct order from your commander. The penalty for that has always been death." Orik's back stiffened.

"You can't kill him for that! He was only helping us," cried Eragon.

Mariah grabbed his arm again, standing next to him, swallowing her own outrage. "He saved our lives… we would have died outside the gates and then you would have no Riders here with you now."

"It isn't your place to interfere," said Ajihad sternly. "Orik broke the law and must suffer the consequences." Eragon started to argue again, but Ajihad stopped him with a raised hand. "But you are right. The sentence will be mitigated because of the circumstances. As of now, Orik, you are removed from active service and forbidden to engage in any military activities under my command. Do you understand?"

Orik's face darkened, but then he only looked confused. He nodded sharply. "Yes."

"Furthermore, in the absence of your regular duties, I appoint you the Rider's guide for the duration of their stay. You are to make sure they receive every comfort and amenity we have to offer. Saphira and Istalri will stay above Isidar Mithrim. Eragon, Mariah and Mark may have quarters wherever they want. When they recover from their trip, take them to the training fields. They're expecting them," said Ajihad, a twinkle of amusement in his eye.

Orik bowed low. "I understand."

"Very well, you all may go. Send in the Twins as you leave."

Mark pushed off the wall, heading for the door. Mariah sighed as Eragon bowed. She turned to leave with him, and then he stopped to asked, "Where can I find Arya? I would like to see her."

"No one is allowed to visit her. You will have to wait until she comes to you." Ajihad looked down at his desk in a clear dismissal.

* * *

More explaining. Ajihad can talk anyone's ear off...

I'm sorry it's taken me so long to update, yet again. I'm working on lots of school projects right now and barely have time to write.

The next few chapters will be much more of my own writing, I think this was the last of the major explanatory plot points. At least for a while.

With Love, As Always,

Mariah


	37. Ch 36: Argetlam

**Chapter Thirty-Six: Argetlam**

She felt stiff from sitting so long and stretched a bit, stepping aside as the Twins brushed past her and Eragon. They entered Ajihad's study and closed the door.

"Arûna uul akh uulz aturga ā ōr chwaer. Ōr môgh uul hurnden. Delva."

Mariah looked up at her brother speaking to Orik in the hall. The dwarf listened to him speak and stood looking up at him. After a few moments of silence, he spoke, "Your Dwarvish is quite terrible."

Mark broke into a grin, "I assumed as much."

"No thanks is needed and you bear no debt to me for saving your sister."

"You still have my gratitude," Mark said, inclining his head. "I don't know what I would do without her."

He stood straight again, glancing down the hall at Mariah and Eragon. They walked to Orik and Eragon spoke, "I'm sorry that you're in trouble because of us."

"Don't bother yourself," grunted Orik, tugging on his beard. "Ajihad gave me what I wanted."

Mariah exchanged glances with Eragon. "What do you mean? You can't train or fight, and you're stuck guarding us. How can that be what you wanted?" She asked.

"Ajihad is a good leader. He understands how to keep the law yet remain just. I have been punished by his command, but I'm also one of Hrothgar's subjects. Under his rule, I'm still free to do what I wish."

Eragon blinked, "Ajihad just placed you in a powerful position, didn't he?"

Orik chuckled deeply. "That he did, and in such a way that the Twins can't complain about it. This'll irritate them for sure. Ajihad's a tricky one, he is. Come, I'm sure you're hungry. And we have to get your dragons settled in."

Saphira hissed. Eragon said, "Her name is Saphira."

Orik made a small bow to her. "My apologies, I'll be sure to remember that. And?" He looked at Mariah. "I heard Ajihad say Istalri."

"It is the elvish word for flame. That is what I have been calling him… however he's open to changing it."

The dwarf blinked. "He hasn't chosen a name?"

"He's fickle like that…"

"Might I make a suggestion then?" Orik asked, looking at the red-orange dragon who bowed his head slightly. "Your scales are the color of red garnet gemstones. Andradite is what we sometimes call it… Andrar is the name I would suggest."

_The dwarf's logic is plain enough, however I do like it._

_More so than what I call you now?_

…_yes, very much so._

_Very well then,_ Mariah looked at Orik. "He appreciates your suggestion and accepts."

The dwarf looked pleased with himself. He took an orange lamp from the wall and led them down the hallway.

"Can others in Farthen Dûr use magic?" asked Eragon, struggling to keep up with the dwarf's brisk pace. He cradled Zar'roc carefully, concealing the symbol on the sheath with his arm.

"Few enough," said Orik with a swift shrug under his mail. "And the ones we have can't do much more than heal bruises." Mariah sighed inwardly, realizing she wasn't about to get any healing training here. "They've all had to tend to Arya because of the strength needed to heal her."

"Except for the Twins," Mark observed.

"Oeí," grumbled Orik. "She wouldn't want their help anyway; their arts are not for healing. Their talents lie in scheming and plotting for power – to everyone else's detriment. Deynor, Ajihad's predecessor, allowed them to join the Varden because he needed their support… you can't oppose the Empire without spellcasters who can hold their own on the field of battle. They're a nasty pair, but they do have their uses."

They entered one of the four main tunnels that divided Tronjheim. Clusters of dwarves and humans strolled through it, voices echoing loudly off the polished floor. The conversations stopped abruptly as they saw the dragons; scores of eyes fixed on her. Orik ignored the spectators and turned left, heading toward one of Tronjheim's distant gates.

Mariah asked, "Where are we going?"

"Out of these halls so Saphira and Andrar can fly up to the dragonhold above Isidar Mithrim, the Star Rose. The dragonhold doesn't have a roof – Tronjheim's peak is open to the sky, like that of Farthen Dûr – so they, that is, you, Saphira and Andrar, will be able to glide straight down into the hold. It is where the Riders used to stay when they visited Tronjheim."

"Won't it be cold and damp without a roof?" asked Eragon.

"Nay." Orik shook his head. "Farthen Dûr protects us from the elements. Neither rain nor snow intrude here. Besides, the hold's walls are lined with marble caves for dragons. They provide all the shelter necessary. All you need fear are the icicles; when they fall they've been known to cleave a horse in two."

Mark choked slightly from behind her and she knew his mind had flicked instantly to Aluora. "Where are the horses?"

"In the stables by the gate. We can visit them before leaving Tronjheim."

He led the way to the stables. As soon as Mark spotted his mare he rushed past Orik and hugged her, stroking her neck, whispering in her ear to calm her down.

"He needs to stop with that…" Mariah muttered. "All anyone would ever have to do is capture her and hold her at knife point for him to do as he wanted…" Eragon chuckled a bit, patting Cadoc on the nose.

The white stallion snorted and counted upon seeing Mariah. She smiled and ran her hand down his neck. "Hey Snowfire. How are you?" He nickered and snorted again, blowing her hair back. She turned her gaze over to Tornac and walked to him carefully. The gray horse threw his head back, whinnying. "Mor'ranr…" she said quietly. "It's all right… I'm not gonna hurt you." The stallion trotted in place and then stopped, looking at her through shining black eyes. Once he'd calmed down, she pressed her hand against his nose, "You're all right."

"Where are we going next?" Mark asked.

"The banquet halls."

"After that?"

"He wants to stay with his horse," Mariah said. "He doesn't like to be parted with her."

"The stables are the best place for her to stay. I'm sure she is tired from your long journey." Orik said to him.

"C'mon Mark… I'm hungry and I'm tired… please?"

He sighed a little, kissing Aluora's nose and going back to Mariah. "All right, let's go then."

They exited Tronjheim through the same gate they had entered. The gold griffins gleamed with colored highlights garnered from scores of lanterns. The sun had moved during their talk with Ajihad – light no longer entered Farthen Dûr through the crater opening. Without those moted rays, the inside of the hollow mountain was velvety black. The only illumination came from Tronjheim, which sparkled brilliantly in the gloom. The city-mountain's radiance was enough to brighten the ground hundreds of feet away.

Orik pointed at Tronjheim's white pinnacle. "Fresh meat and pure mountain water await you up there," he told the dragons. "You may stay in any of the caves. Once you make your choice, bedding will be laid down in it and then no one will disturb you."

"I thought we were going to go together. I don't want to be separated," protested Eragon.

Orik turned to him. "Rider Eragon, I will do everything to accommodate you, but it would be best if Saphira waits in the dragonhold while you eat. The tunnels to the banquet halls aren't large enough for her to accompany us."

"Why can't you just bring me food in the hold?"

"Because," said Orik with a guarded expression, "the food is prepared down here, and it is a long way to the top. If you wish, a servant could be sent up to the hold with a meal for you. It will take some time, but you could eat with Saphira then."

After a moment's pause, he said to Orik, "I'll eat down here." The dwarf smiled, seeming satisfied.

"Good, because I was about to let you go by yourself." Mariah said, removing her dragon's saddle, tying her sword to it, realizing she probably shouldn't carry it around with her in front of everyone. "Then I would have been bored without you." _Andrar,_ she paused, finding the name strange.

_Yes?_ Her dragon lowered his head to her, _I do like that name better. It is more refined than your previous name for me. _

_Very well then, you fickle dragon. Andrar, will you be all right with Saphira in the hold?_

_Of course. I'm ready for a rest after all our traveling._

_I will come see you after we eat._

_Enjoy your time this evening, you have earned every moment._ Andrar took his saddle into his front paws and lurched into the sky after Saphira. The steady whoosh of dragon wings was the only sound in the darkness.

As they disappeared over the rim of Tronjheim's peak, Orik let out a long breath. "Ah, you have been blessed indeed. I find a sudden longing in my heart for open skies and soaring cliffs and the thrill of hunting like a hawk. Still, my feet are better on the ground – preferably under it."

"Flying's not all it appears to be. Those without wings were not meant to fly," Mark said, chuckling.

Orik clapped his hands loudly. "I neglect my duties as host. I know you've not dined since that pitiful dinner the Twins saw fit to give you, so come, let's find the cooks and beg meat and bread from them!"

They followed the dwarf back into Tronjheim and through a labyrinth of corridors until they came to a long room filled with rows of stone tables only high enough for dwarves. Fires blazed in soapstone ovens behind a long counter.

Orik spoke words in Dwarvish to a stout ruddy-faced dwarf, who promptly handed them stone platters piled with steaming mushrooms and fish. Then Orik took them up several flights of stairs and into a small alcove carved out of Tronjheim's outer wall, where they sat cross-legged.

Mariah sighed as she sat down and reached for her food silently, glad to finally eat something that wasn't stale bread. She glanced at her brother and let the silence fill the air between them all. Orik seemed content not speaking and she took it upon herself to pry into her brother's mind.

_Stop it. I'll talk with you later. When we are alone. Please just relax for now._

Sighing inwardly, she ate her meal in peace. When their platters were empty, Orik sighed with contentment and pulled out a long-stemmed pipe. He lit it saying, "A worthy repast, though it needed a good draught of mead to wash it down properly."

Eragon surveyed the ground below. "Do you farm in Farthen Dûr?"

"No, there's only enough sunlight for moss, mushrooms, and mold. Tronjheim cannot survive without supplies from the surrounding valleys, which is one reason why many of us choose to live elsewhere in the Beor Mountains."

"Then," Mariah said, "There are other dwarf cities?" Mark leaned stood and leaned against the wall, looking over the edge.

"Not as many as we would like. And Tronjheim is the greatest of them." Leaning on an elbow, Orik took a deep pull on his pipe. "You have only seen the lower levels, so it hasn't been apparent, but most of Tronjheim is deserted. The farther up you go, the emptier it gets. Entire floors have remained untouched for centuries. Most dwarves prefer to dwell under Tronjheim and Farthen Dûr in the caverns and passageways that riddle the rock. Through the centuries we have tunneled extensively under the Beor Mountains. It is possible to walk from one end of the mountain range to the other without ever stepping foot on the surface."

"It seems like a waste to have all that unused space in Tronjheim," commented Eragon.

Orik nodded. "Some have argued for abandoning this place because of its drain on our resources, but Tronjheim does perform one invaluable task."

"What's that?"

"In times of misfortune it can house our entire nation. There have been only three instances in our history when we have been forced to that extreme, but each time it has saved us from certain and utter destruction. That is why we always keep it garrisoned, ready for use."

"Even through all our travels, I have never seen anything so breathtaking," Mariah said, looking across the city.

Orik smiled around his pipe. "I'm glad you find it so. It took generations to build Tronjheim – and our lives are much longer than those of men. Unfortunately, because of the cursed Empire, few outsiders are allowed to see its glory."

"How many Varden are here?" Eragon asked.

"Dwarves or humans?"

"Humans – I want to know how many have fled the Empire."

Orik exhaled a long puff of smoke that coiled lazily around his head. "There are about four thousand of your kin here. But that's a poor indicator of what you want to know. Only people who wish to fight come here. The rest of them are under King Orrin's protection in Surda."

Mariah glanced at Eragon's face, watching his expression drop. She remembered Murtagh telling them that the royal army alone numbered nearly sixteen thousand, when it was fully marshaled, not counting the Urgals.

"Why doesn't Orrin fight the Empire himself?" Eragon asked.

"If he were to show open hostility," said Orik, "Galbatorix would crush him. As it is, Galbatorix withholds that destruction because he considers Surda a minor threat, which is a mistake. It's through Orrin's assistance that the Varden have most of their weapons and supplies. Without him, there would be no resisting the Empire.

"Don't despair over the small number of humans in Tronjheim. There are many dwarves here – many more than you have seen – and all will fight when the time comes. Orrin has also promised us troops for when we battle Galbatorix. The elves pledged their help as well."

Mariah listened and thought. Now that they had arrived in the Varden, they were expected to fight alongside them. She had known the day would come, however now that it was in front of her, she didn't know what to think. Part of her just wanted to flee all together, taking Mark, Eragon, Andrar and Saphira with her. But the stronger part of her, the part of her she knew was Brom's blood and teachings, wanted to fight and destroy the Empire. The people here deserved to be free and not live in fear. As a Rider, it was her duty to help them.

"What does that mean?" Eragon asked, snapping her attention back to the conversation at hand. "I saw it on the floor of Tronjheim."

Orik lifted the iron-bound cap off his head and brushed a rough finger over the hammer and stars engraving. "It is the symbol of my clan. We are the Ingeitum, metalworkers and master smiths. The hammer and stars are inlaid into Tronjheim's floor because it was the personal crest of Korgan, our founger. One clan to rule, with twelve surrounding. King Hrothgar is Dûrgrimst Ingeitum as well and has brought my house much glory, much honor."

The dwarf stood and collected his platter. Mariah followed, calling to Mark. He trailed behind the group as they returned the platters to the cook. As they walked, they passed a dwarf in the hall. He stopped before Eragon, bowed, and said respectfully, "Argetlam." He looked up and did the same to Mariah.

She blushed at the action and found her voice. "Delva," she said, remembering how Mark kept thanking everyone, smiling and inclining her head. He looked surprised for a moment before walking away.

"What did he say?" Eragon asked, flushed and stuttering for an answer.

Mark clapped him on his shoulder, "It's an elven word that was used to refer to the Riders. It means 'silver hand.' Get used to it; you'll probably be hearing it a lot." He walked past them to drop off his plates with the cook.

Eragon glanced at his gloved hand and Mariah flexed her fingers nervously as her silver palm tingled.

"Do you wish to return to Saphira and Andrar?" Orik asked.

"Ah… well," Mariah paused, still blushing slightly. "Is there somewhere I can find a change of clothes?"

"At the very least. We've been traveling for a long time and haven't had an opportunity to wash off the grime from the road," Mark said.

Eragon looked at the dwarf, "Also, my shirt is blood-stained and torn. I'd like to replace it, but I don't have any money to buy a new one. Is there a way I could work for one?"

"Do you seek to insult Hrothgar's hospitality, Eragon?" demanded Orik. "As long as you are in Tronjheim, you won't have to buy a thing. You'll pay for it in other ways – Ajihad and Hrothgar will see to that. Come. I'll show you where to wash, then fetch you all a change of clothes."

He took them down a long staircase until they were well below Tronjheim. The corridors were tunnels now – which cramped them because they were only five feet high – and all the lanterns were red. "So the light doesn't blind you when you leave or enter a dark cavern," explained Orik.

The entered a bare room with a small door on the far side. Orik pointed. "The pools are through there, along with brushes and soap. Leave your clothes here. I'll have new ones waiting when you get out."

Mark paused, looking at his sister.

"Ah, of course, Mariah, please, come this way." Orik said, turning and walking her back out into the hall, down a few more feet to another room. "I will have clothes sent for you and meet you in the hall when you are finished."

"Thank you." She said, watching him leave. Mariah sighed and undressed, kicking her boots off as she started pulling her tunic over her head. She stripped her leggings and shivered. Unable to see well in the dim light, she muttered a spell, "Brisingr, iet tauthr." A small flame burst into being near her and she hurried through the small door. Carefully, she slipped one foot into the pool of water. It was extremely warm. With a sigh, she slid into the water, glancing at the fire to make sure it stayed above her. Mariah quickly realized the water was only high enough to reach her waist and quickly let her legs give from beneath her so she was submerged.

She could taste some salt in the water but it wasn't unpleasant. Surfacing, she looked around and found the soap, quickly setting to cleaning herself. More than once she winced at bruises and scratches still on her skin from the fight with the Urgals and the days prior. Running her fingers through her hair, Mariah untangled the strands and washed it twice before she felt anywhere near clean. When she was finished, she removed herself from the pool, instantly missing the warmth of the water.

Quickly, she walked into the lighted room, extinguishing her fire light. Standing in the room was a small girl, no more than ten. "Hello." Mariah said, surprised. Shivering, she looked around and found a towel, wrapping it around herself.

"Argetlam…" she said in a whisper.

"What's your name?"

"Catherine." Again, in a whisper.

"Well, Catharine. I would be happy if you called me Mariah." She smiled at the blond haired girl.

Her eyes lit up and she smiled at her. "How did a lady get to be a Rider, Mariah? My brothers always told me that girls weren't allowed."

"That's nonsense. They must have been teasing you." She realized that the girl was holding a bundle of cloth. "Are those for me?"

"Oh, yes!" She said. "I came to help you dress."

Mariah blinked, finding no good reason for the girl to assist her. Then she unfolded the bundle she had and she realized why. It was a dress. Why they would send a dress for her, she had no idea. She hadn't been wearing one upon her arrival.

"Oh… well. Thank you," she said, not about to argue with the little girl, deciding to address the situation later. She took the white dress that was supposed to be worn underneath, pulling it on before Catharine handed her the long red gown and she slipped it over her body. It fit quite well, thankfully. Turning around she sat carefully on the floor, splaying the skirts out and allowing Catharine to lace the back up tightly. When she was finished, she handed Mariah a pair of black heeled shoes.

"These are for when you wish to go to sleep. So you do not have to sleep in your dress." The girl handed her a white shirt and loose breeches.

"You've been very helpful Catharine. Tell your brothers I said hello."

"I will!" She said, smiling and walking out into the tunnel. Mariah followed after her, watching her recede up the staircase.

When Mark spotted her his mouth instantly twisted into a grin and he turned his head, trying not to laugh.

"Stop." She insisted, walking over to Mark, Eragon and Orik. Her heels clicked at every step.

The dwarf looked at her, speaking past his pipe, "What?"

"Oh," she blushed, "I… I do not favor dresses. That is all. I prefer breeches and a shirt. But it's alright."

"I believe the color suits you, though I will keep that in mind for the future."

"Thank you," she smiled, catching Eragon staring at her. "What?" She asked as she followed up the stairs behind Orik, nearly tripping.

"I don't think I've ever seen you in a dress. It's weird," he said simply.

"Well, don't get used to it." Mariah told him, stopping on the stairs, shoving her other set of clothing at her brother to carry. With her hands free now, she picked up her skirts so she could stop stepping on them and continued after the dwarf faster. When they exited the mountain-city, she called to Andrar with her mind.

As he flew down from the dragonhold, Eragon asked, "How do you communicate with people at the top of Tronjheim?"

Orik chuckled. "That's a problem we solved long ago. You didn't notice, but behind the open arches that line each level is a single, unbroken staircase that spirals around the wall of Tronjheim's central chamber. The stairs climb all the way to the dragonhold above Isidar Mithrim. We call it Vol Turin, The Endless Staircase. Running up or down it isn't swift enough for an emergency, nor convenient enough for casual use. Instead, we use flashing lanterns to convey messages. There is another way too, though it is seldom used. When Vol Turin was constructed, a polished trough was cut next to it. The trough acts as a giant slide as high as a mountain."

Eragon's lips twitched with a smile. "Is it dangerous?"

Mariah flashed him a glare as Orik said, "Do not think of trying it. The slide was built for dwarves and is too narrow for a man. If you slipped out of it, you could be thrown onto the stairs and against the arches, perhaps even into empty space."

The dragons landed softly a spear's throw away, scales rustling dryly. Andrar folded his wings and snorted toward his Rider, who was in a dress. He turned his head away quickly and she glared. _Not you too!_

Human and dwarves trickled out of Tronjheim, gathering around them with murmurs of interest. Mariah swallowed at the growing crowd and heard Orik speak from behind her. "You'd better go. Meet me by this gate tomorrow morning. I'll be waiting."

"How will I know when it's morning?" Eragon balked.

"I'll have someone wake you. Now go!"

She didn't need another command. Sweeping up her dress in her fists, she hurried to Andrar, Mark on her heels. He assisted her onto his back and climbed up behind her, wrapping an arm around her waist as much for his own safety as hers before Andrar flicked out his wings sharply. People crowded nearby backed away with a gasp as he lurched off the ground into the air.

Mark glanced backward, "Looks like Eragon got stuck dealing with the crowd."

"It's his own fault for being slow."

"Still can't believe they got you in a dress."

"Hush, brother."

Andrar glided over the rim of the dragonhold and dropped to Isidar Mithrim. Mark slipped off his back and helped Mariah down, sighing, glad to be out of the air. The room was round, roofless, sixty feet high and sixty feet across. The walls were lined with the dark openings of caves, which differed in size from grottoes no larger than a man to a gaping cavern larger than a house. Shiny rungs were set into the marble walls so that people could reach the highest caves. An enormous archway led out of the dragonhold.

"Mark, can you unlace this damn thing?"

He chuckled, "Of course. And tomorrow we'll find you something more comfortable to wear." Mark nimbly set to work pulling the cord away from her back, through all the small holes. When he was finished, he handed her the second set of clothing she'd been given. Andrar flicked his wing over and around her so she could change in seclusion.

"I don't know if I like being so high," Mark said aloud so she could hear him.

She struggled out of her dress, "Well, I like it much better up here than down there with all those people staring at me."

"Mariah, you know how much everything's changed now. Don't you?"

Walking out from behind the red wing, she blinked at him. "Yes. Of course I do. Fate has made my life impossible to be my own. I have to be responsible for everyone now, not just myself."

"And you are not yet sixteen… none of this should have fallen upon your shoulders, sister."

"You wouldn't make much of a Rider Marcus," she pointed out, folding her dresses together and looking at her dragon. "Where are we sleeping?"

_You may sleep beside me here,_ he said, leaping up to a large cavern spacey enough for him to stretch his wings. Mariah climbed up the rungs to him. The cave was deeper than she had expected. The roughly chiseled walls gave the impression of a natural formation. Near the far wall was a thick cushion large enough for Andrar to curl up on. Beside it was a bed built into the side of the wall. The cave was lit by a single red lantern equipped with a shutter so its glow could be muted. Mariah sat down beside Andrar, allowing her legs to dangle over the edge of his cavern. She watched as Eragon and Saphira flew up finally.

As soon as he had dismounted from her back, Eragon spun slowly in a circle, looking up. Once he'd taken that in, he looked straight down at the giant star sapphire beneath his feet. Half a moment later he was laying face down on it, trying to look through the gem.

Mark walked over to him, his arms folded. "What are you doing?"

He jumped up and blinked, "Nothing."

"Thought so." Mark ruffled Eragon's blond hair up harshly, shaking his head. "What did you do down there?"

"Ah… nothing."

"…right. Mariah, are you going to sleep now?"

"No," she called down. "I wish to stay up a little longer."

Eragon shrugged, climbing up to Saphira. "We'll I'm tired. So I'm going to sleep… good night."

"Night Eragon," she called, smiling at him. Mark said nothing for a while and she simply sat with Andrar until they knew Eragon was asleep. She reached over and climbed back down the ladder, walking barefoot over to her brother across the jewel. "You have to tell me… everything."

"Not everything."

"Tell me what you can then, please."

"Start questioning."

"Did you know we were coming here?"

"Yes. In a way."

"Why are you hiding things from me?"

"Because Brom made me promise before he died. In the Ancient Language, so I cannot speak to you about it."

"He was thorough then."

"Extremely."

"What are we doing here?"

"The plan was to find the Varden or go to the elves in Du Weldenvarden. Brom hinted their queen might be reluctant to allow you to leave. They desperately wanted the Riders to be elves. I thought it best to find the Varden first… they seemed more… relaxed about having you, probably because you're human. Here, we are safer from Galbatorix than anywhere else. Brom told us to find them, so we have. During our travels here, we have rescued an elf, who seems to be of some influence and made friends with the son of an enemy. Both are beneficial in their own way. We arrived here on good terms with the leader – Ajihad. We didn't even have to go through the mind searching the Twins were imposing… at least, I didn't."

"You know more than me. I knew that when I told him not to probe your mind."

Mark twitched a smile, "Thank you. And please refrain from trusting them at all, I can't help but feel like they're trouble. And since they're the only powerful magicians here… they hold more power than they should. From here, we mostly do as we're told. We are not servants to these people, especially not you. As a Rider you are free to make your own choices… do not let them influence you. Eventually, we will travel to Du Weldenvarden and meet with the elves and their queen. The training Brom started will continue there. While we're here, we have to teach Eragon what we know… it was Brom's duty to train the new Riders. However, if you haven't realized, he trained us to train them in the event of his death. It just so happened you became a Rider by chance. Eragon hasn't had a lifetime of training. You have. The test they wish to impose upon you shouldn't be difficult at all. Don't let Ajihad tell you that you are a weak little girl, because you're not. You are stronger than you realize. Let him think as he wants for now, but promise me that you'll show him how pathetic you are during your testing, alright?"

"I promise," Mariah cracked a small smile.

"Good." Mark told her simply.

"You really do have this all figured out, don't you?" She asked, blinking at him in amazement. Mariah hugged him around his waist, burying her face into his chest.

He hugged her back tightly, placing his cheek on the top of her head. "I am only here to protect my sister. You are my first and only priority, most important. I will do everything I possibly can to assist you and provide council when I cannot. You focus on being a Rider and let me worry about everything else."

* * *

**Dwarvish**

Arûna uul akh uulz aturga ā ōr chwaer. Ōr môgh uul hurnden. Delva. - Bless you for your valor to my sister. I bear you payment. Thank you.

Delva - Thank you

**Elvish**

mor'ranr - Peace

Argetlam - silver hand

Brisingr, iet tauthr - Fire, follow me

If anyone's freaking out on me about changing Flayme's name to Andrar, please don't. I believe it perfectly reasonable for a dragon to change its name – it's a dragon, it can do what it wants. I started writing this several years ago and that was the name I had chosen back then… thinking it was so clever. Now, it clearly isn't. If there's still someone who doesn't agree with it, I'm sorry, but people change their names all the time. It's completely normal for someone (such as myself) to go by different names. It just depends on where you are and who you're with. I'm sticking with Andrar now and leaving it at that. Because writing "Flayme spewed flames out of his jaws" just doesn't sound right…

Thank you for waiting so long and being so patient. I hope this chapter was a little more away from the book than normal.

I'm on a tight schedule and exams are next week, so bear with me a little while longer.

Restrained. Freedom - you always seem to review every chapter, or nearly such, I do appreciate all your helpful comments.

With Love, As Always,

Mariah


	38. Ch 37: Hrothgar

**Chapter Thirty-Seven: Hrothgar**

The small opening at the top of the mountain was colored with hues of pink, purple and faint blue as the dawn sunlight covered the skies outside the city of Farthen Dûr. Mariah stretched and looked over at her dragon as she pushed her blankets off. Andrar was still curled tightly as he slept and she believed he wouldn't wake any time soon. Feeling refreshed for the first time since she had left Teirm, Mariah slipped out of the cavern down the rungs embedded into the wall. Her bare feet hit the jewel soundlessly.

Mark had gone back down to the stables to sleep, wanting to be near Aluora. He'd insisted he would come up and find them in the morning, but she wasn't planning on waiting for him to show up. On the floor at the foot of the ladder, were her sword and a fresh set of clothes she suspected Orik had sent up for her. Staying quiet, she walked over and checked; indeed they were her size and she quickly slipped out of her night clothes and into the light tan breeches and burgundy shirt.

Picking up her sword and boots, she quietly walked across the star sapphire to the archway. At the top of Vol Turin, she buckled her belt around her waist and tied on her sword sheath. Mariah pulled on her boots and started descending. Once she reached the next level down, she could see Isidar Mithrim sparkling brilliantly above her, as well as the city-mountain's distant base. Mariah paused for a moment, staring upward when a cat trotted up the stairs past her. It paused for a moment on a higher step and looked back at her.

"Solembum," she blinked. "What are you doing here?"

He seemed to smile ferally at her before responding. _I believe a better question is, where are you going?_

Mariah narrowed her eyes at the werecat and took another step down, looking forward so she wouldn't fall. When she had finally decided on a response and turned to speak it to him, he was gone. Shaking her head, the Rider continued descending the staircase.

Finally, she found the level with Ajihad's study room on it and found one of the guards nearby. "Excuse me," she said, catching his attention. "Could you tell me where I might find Ajihad?"

"Lady Argetlam," he bowed his head for a moment. "Ajihad is in a conference this morning, is there something you need assistance with?"

"I… would like to see my companion, Murtagh."

"I am unsure whether Ajihad is allowing visitors at this time…"

"Please? I only ask a few minutes, I won't stay long. There are guards as well, correct?"

"Indeed." He said, nodding and telling her the way. "I'm sure they will allow you entrance if you give them your weapon during your visit."

"It's much appreciated," she said, smiling. Mariah turned on her heel and walked off; once she was alone she hurried, nearly in a run. She didn't know how long Andrar would be asleep, or Mark. And once they realized that she was missing, they would try to find her. Knowing Mark, if he found out she was sneaking off to see Murtagh, it was going to end with a long lecture.

After some searching, she found the cells where Murtagh was being held. She caught her breath and smiled at one of the guards. "Good morning."

"Lady Argetlam, good morning. Are you in need of assistance?"

She blinked, getting a flashback. They must have all been instructed on how to speak to her earlier. Shaking it off, she nodded. "I wish to see Murtagh. Please."

"Ajihad still has some questioning to do, however he did say if anyone came down that he would allow visitation. I must ask for your sword before you can go in, Argetlam."

"Of course," she said, untying her sheath and handing it over to the guard. He placed it on top of a table. There was a dwarf sitting in a chair who hopped down and bowed.

"This way," he insisted, walking her down the hall. He banged on the wall three times and unbolted the lock. "Just call for us when you wish to leave."

"Delva," she smiled, looking up as the door opened and stepping in. As she suspected, the door shut and locked behind her immediately.

The cell was warm and well lit, with a washbasin in one corner and a writing desk – equipped with quills and ink – in another. The ceiling was extensively carved with lacquered figures; the floor was covered with a plush rug. Murtagh was laying on his back in the bed, reading.

"Mariah?" He blinked, sitting up abruptly. "What are you doing down here?"

"I came to see how you were faring…" she said slowly, looking around the room, amazed. "I was worried it was going to be dreadful. On the contrary, I think you may have better quarters than I do."

"You thought I was stuck in some rat hole chewing on hardtack. I expected the same thing, but Ajihad lets me have all this as long as I don't cause trouble. And they bring me huge meals, as well as anything I want from the library. If I'm not careful, I'll turn into a fat scholar."

She smiled, slipping down into the chair by the desk. "Well, I'm glad it's not horrible… and you're not angry about all of this."'

"I am… a little. I do wish I could leave," he said. "Then I realize that I would probably stay in here most of the time anyway… people would recognize me if I left this place."

"At least you wouldn't be locked away like a vicious dog," she said.

He grinned, "Is that what you think I am?"

"No, of course not. It's just so strange here; I didn't know what to think when they said they were taking you prisoner."

"I hope they didn't hassle you, they have no reason to worry about you. They didn't, did they?"

"No, no." She shook her head. "No trouble at all… they didn't even try to search Mark's mind either. I did ask them not to, but I honestly didn't think they would listen."

"He's the one they should have checked. I know that he knows more than he's letting on."

Mariah cracked a smile, "He is, but he won't ever let anyone know that."

They sat in silence for a moment, observing one another. She couldn't help but notice he seemed at ease, for the first time since she'd met him he appeared calm and content. His eyes narrowed at her a little, "Are you enjoying yourself here?"

"Yes. I finally managed to get the dirt and blood scrubbed out of my hair, which is relief enough in itself. They treat us well… too well almost. And I've learned a lot in the past day, more than I probably wished to know. I heard Arya is being healed, which is good. It sets my nerves at ease to know that the thing we rushed here for most is being taken care of. I still cannot figure out Ajihad however…"

"He seems like a smart man," Murtagh said, lacing his fingers together. "And a good leader, but despite the best intentions I do not believe that he is fully in charge."

"He's not. There is a dwarf king, Hrothgar… there are many more dwarves here than humans. And they don't particularly like either of us Riders. We're outnumbered, completely. They do however, like the dragons well enough."

"How is Flayme liking all the attention then?"

Mariah laughed, "He actually changed his name, to Andrar."

"I didn't know dragons could do that," Murtagh chuckled.

"Apparently he decided he can." She looked around the room again, her smile fading. "I don't believe it matters you know…"

"What?"

"That your father was Morzan." Her eyes flicked back to him, noticing him tense. "I don't believe blood matters… it's your actions that define you, not your lineage."

"It does impact the way people see you however."

"Maybe it's because I knew you before I knew who you were… but I don't believe that. You are nothing like your father was…"

"You didn't know my father."

"I have heard stories about him however… and what Brom told me… well, nothing can be worse than that. Mortal enemies do not hide the truth with pleasantries. If you were anything like your father, I believe you would have stayed with Galbatorix in the Empire… the night you saved us you would have killed us on sight instead of attacking the Ra'zac-"

"How is Eragon?" Murtagh cut in.

"He's fine…" she insisted. "…Murtagh."

"Your brother is probably worried about you, since you decided to sneak off this morning, you should go." He said, standing.

Mariah rose to her feet, "Why are you so insistent that I leave?"

"Because you're being foolish. A foolish girl who is not yet sixteen who doesn't know what she means when she says that my lineage doesn't matter."

"It shouldn't," she insisted. "And don't call me foolish… I know more than many others ever will."

"And still much less than many others do," he told her.

"If you wanted to you could have killed us. You knew Brom killed your father, if you were anything like him you would have murdered us after knowing that we were his kin."

"I would never kill you," he said. "I don't kill people for petty reasons like that…"

Mariah blinked. "I don't believe it when you tell me that."

"Then don't. Just remember that though you may think one way, many others will think differently and if you are not in good company, saying things as such aloud will be costly."

"Are… you worried?"

"Yes. You can be more foolish than Eragon, much more foolish."

"Stop saying that," she said, her eyes turning glassy with tears.

Murtagh shook his head, "It's true. Like right now, why are you still down here talking to me when you know full well they are looking for you?"

"Because I wanted to make sure you were alright," she said.

"I appreciate it," he said, taking her hands, feeling bad about nearly making her cry. "But I don't want you in trouble because of me. Thank you for visiting me."

Mariah blinked up at him and nodded.

His eyes flicked back to their hands as he ran his thumb across her skin. "Those burns left scars. I'm so sorry about that. It's my fault it happened in the first place."

She looked down at the back of her hand and tried to remember what had caused the burn spots on her hands. Then she remembered the embers from the fire being scattered, from when he and Eragon had been fighting. "Oh. I'd forgotten about that already. You don't need to be sorry, it wasn't your fault."

"Thank you, Mariah," Murtagh said, cracking a vague smile. "Go ahead and go. I'll see you again soon enough."

"All right, thank you, Murtagh," she said.

He dropped her hands and smiled slightly, "Until later then." Walking over, he smacked his fist against the door, "Guard!" The door opened after a moment and she stepped out. "Bye Mariah."

* * *

When she arrived back at the dragonhold, she came face to face with Mark at the head of the stairs. She blinked at him and swallowed.

He looked her up and down once, seemingly satisfied she was unharmed. "A dwarf is here… he was sent to retrieve you for Orik it seems… I wouldn't keep him waiting any longer."

"What are you going to do?" Glancing over, she saw Eragon talking with him, Zar'roc strapped to his belt.

"Stare at the wall and wait for you to come back, just go." He insisted. Mariah shook her head and quickly strode over to the pair.

"Ah, Argetlam." The dwarf bowed, "Good. Knurla Orik waits for you." He turned and scurried off back down the stairs she'd just walked up. Exchanging a look with Eragon, she climbed onto Andrar's back before he took off after Saphira. Together they spiraled down the city-mountain's base. As soon as they landed by one of Tronjheim's gates, Orik ran to Saphira's side.

"My king, Hrothgar, wishes to see you. Dismount quickly. We must hurry."

She jumped down out of the saddle and caught Eragon's stride, following the dwarf into Tronjheim. Mariah expertly ignored stares from people along the corridor. "Where are we meeting Hrothgar?"

"In the throne room beneath the city. It will be a private audience as an act of otho – of 'faith'." Mariah promised herself that she would force Mark to teach her as much dwarvish as he knew after she got back to the dragonhold. "You do not have to address him in any special manner, but speak to him respectfully. Hrothgar is quick to anger, but he is wise and sees keenly into the minds of men, so think carefully before you speak."

Once they entered Tronjheim's central chamber, Orik led the way to one of the two descending stairways that flanked the opposite hall. They started down the right-hand staircase, which gently curved inward until it faced the direction they had come from. The other stairway merged with theirs to form a broad cascade of dimly lit steps that ended, after a hundred feet, before two granite doors. A seven-pointed crown was carved across both doors.

Seven dwarves stood guard on each side of the portal. They held burnished mattocks and wore gem-encrusted belts. As they approached, the dwarves pounded the floor with the mattocks' hafts. A deep boom rolled back up the stairs. The doors swung inward.

A dark hall lay before them, a good bowshot long. The throne room was a natural cave; the walls were lined with stalagmites and stalactites, each thicker than a man. Sparsely hung lanterns cast a moody light. The brown floor was smooth and polished. At the far end of the hall was a black throne with a motionless figure upon it.

Orik bowed. "The king awaits you." Mariah watched him but when he didn't move, she walked forward into the throne room. The doors closed behind them, leaving them alone in the dimly lit room with the king.

_Well this is cheerful._ She said, glancing up at her dragon.

_Most definitely not. Underground like this feels very unnatural; I don't like it in the least. No sky visible at all… winged creatures aren't meant to be under the earth like this._

Their footsteps echoed through the hall as they advanced toward the throne. In the recesses between the stalagmites and stalactites rested large statues. Each sculpture depicted a dwarf king crowned and sitting on a throne; their sightless eyes gazed sternly into the distance, their lined faces set in fierce expressions. A name was chiseled in runes beneath each set of feet.

They passed more than forty statues, then only dark and empty alcoves awaiting future kings. They stopped before Hrothgar at the end of the hall.

The dwarf king himself sat like a statue upon a raised throne carved from a single piece of black marble. It was blocky, unadorned, and cut with unyielding precision. Strength emanated from the throne, strength that harked back to ancient times when dwarves had ruled in Alagaësia without opposition from elves or humans. A gold helm lined with rubies and diamonds rested on Hrothgar's head in place of a crown. His visage was grim, weathered, and hewn of many years' experience. Beneath a craggy brow glinted deep-set eyes, flinty and piercing. Over his powerful chest rippled a shirt of mail. His white beard was tucked under his belt, and in his lap he held a mighty war hammer with the symbol of Orik's clan embossed on its head.

Eragon bowed awkwardly and knelt. _What are you doing? _Mariah asked, glancing at him out of the corner of her eye and merely looked at the king, standing straight, unmoving.

_Uhm… bowing?_

_Why?_

_He's… the king?_

_Dwarf king. Not Dragon Rider king… even if there was such a thing… would you bow to him? I don't see the need. _

Before Eragon could answer, the dwarf stirred as if awakening from a long sleep. "Rise, Rider, you need not pay tribute to me." He stood, straightening next to Mariah. "Âz knurl deimi lanok. 'Beware, the rock changes' – an old dictum of ours… And nowadays the rock changes very fast indeed." He fingered the war hammer. "I could not meet with you earlier, as Ajihad did, because I was forced to deal with my enemies within the clans. They demanded that I deny you sanctuary and expel you from Farthen Dûr. It has taken much work on my part to convince them otherwise."

"Thank you," said Eragon. "We didn't anticipate how much strife our arrival would cause."

The king accepted the thanks, then lifted a gnarled hand and pointed. "See there, where my predecessors sit upon their graven thrones. One and forty there are, with I the forty-second. When I pass from this world into the care of the gods, my hírna will be added to their ranks. The first statue is the likeness of my ancestor Korgan, who forged this mace, Volund. For eight millennia – since the dawn of our race – dwarves have ruled under Farthen Dûr. We are the bones of the land, older than both the fair elves and the savage dragons." Saphira shifted slightly and Andrar audibly snorted.

Hrothgar leaned forward, his voice gravelly and deep. "I am old, humans – even by our reckoning – old enough to have seen the Riders in all their fleeting glory, old enough to have spoken with their last leader, Vrael, who paid tribute to me within these very walls. Few are still alive who can claim that much. I remember the Riders and how they meddled in our affairs. I also remember the peace they kept that made it possible to walk unharmed from Tronjheim to Narda.

"And now you stand before me – a lost tradition revived. Tell me, and speak truly in this, why have you come to Farthen Dûr? I know the events that made you flee the Empire, but what is your intent now?"

Mariah bit her tongue as Eragon answered for them. "For now, we merely want to recuperate in Tronjheim. We are not here to cause trouble, only to find sanctuary from the danger we've faced for many months. Ajihad may send us to the elves, but until he does, we have no wish to leave."

"Then was it only the desire for safety that drove you?" asked Hrothgar. "Do you just seek to live here and forget your trouble with the Empire?"

Eragon shook his head, "If Ajihad told you of our past, you should know that we have grievances enough to fight the Empire until it is nothing but scattered ashes. More than that, though… I want to aid those who cannot escape Galbatorix, including my cousin. I have the strength to help, so I must."

"And you… Lady Rider, who has not yet spoken?"

She looked at the king and blinked, "I wish for something less noble than aiding those in the Empire… though the goal is the same. I wish for revenge on Galbatorix… the Ra'zac and all those in alliance with them for the death of my grandfather. I wish selfishly for revenge and to keep those I hold dear to me safest of all."

Hrothgar held her gaze for a moment, "Honest." Finally, seemingly satisfied with their answers, he turned to Saphira and Andrar. "Dragons, what think you of this matter? For what reasons have you come?"

_Tell the dwarf that I wish to protect my little one_ _and in doing so, wish revenge on Galbatorix as well. He's held the Empire captive far too long… destroyed the lives of my brethren scores over. His hands are tainted with so much of their blood I can smell his traitorous filth from here in this room. Even now he holds two of my kin in his grasp. I would free them if I could. I wish nothing more than to tear his throat from his body and watch him bleed in my claws._

_A little morbid, don't you agree? Would you rather I paraphrase?_

_Say what you think you must in order to appeal to the dwarf king… nothing more, nothing less. But that truly is what I believe._

After listening to both dragons' remarks, Hrothgar's mouth lifted in a hint of grim amusement, deepening his wrinkles. "I see that dragons have not changed with the centuries." He rapped the throne with a knuckle. "Do you know why this seat was quarried so flat and angular? So that no one would sit comfortably on it. I have not, and will relinquish it without regret when my time comes. What is there to remind you of your obligations, Riders? If the Empire falls, will you take Galbatorix's place and claim his kingship?" His gaze flicked to Mariah, "Become queen?"

"I would not want the responsibility of such a task. My life shall become difficult enough as a Rider… I would never take the throne, even if begged to take the position. There will always be someone better suited than I for something such as that." Mariah said. "I never want to rule anything other than my own life."

"I don't seek to wear the crown or rule," said Eragon. "Being a Rider is responsibility enough. No, I would not take the throne in Uru'baen… not unless there was no one else willing or competent enough to take it."

Hrothgar warned gravely, "Certainly you would be a kinder king than Galbatorix, but no race should have a leader who does not age or leave the throne. The time of the Riders has passed. They will never rise again – not even if Galbatorix's other eggs were to hatch."

A shadow crossed his face as he gazed at Eragon's side. "I see that you carry an enemy's sword; I was told of this, and that you travel with a son of the Forsworn. It does not please me to see this weapon." He extended a hand. "I would like to examine it."

Eragon drew Zar'roc and presented it to the king, hilt first. Hrothgar grasped the sword and ran a practiced eye over the red blade. The edge caught the lantern light, reflecting it sharply. The dwarf king tested the point with his palm, then said, "A masterfully forged blade. Elves rarely choose to make swords – they prefer bows and spears – but when they do, the results are unmatched. This is an ill-fated blade; I am not glad to see it within my realm. But carry it if you will; perhaps its luck has changed." He returned Zar'roc and Eragon sheathed it. "Has my nephew proved helpful during your time here?"

"Who?"

Hrothgar raised a tangled eyebrow. "Orik, my youngest sister's son. He's been serving under Ajihad to show my support for the Varden. It seems that he has been returned to my command, however. I was gratified to hear that you defended him with your words."

Eragon nodded, "I couldn't ask for a better guide." Mariah smiled in agreement.

"That is good," said the king, clearly pleased. "Unfortunately, I cannot speak with you much longer. My advisors wait for me, as they're are matters I must deal with. I will say this, though: If you wish the support of the dwarves within my realm, you must first prove yourself to them. We have long memories and do not rush to hasty decisions. Words will decide nothing, only deeds."

"We shall keep that in mind," said Eragon, bowing again.

Hrothgar nodded regally. "You may go, then."

"Thank you King Hrothgar," Mariah insisted, still not too keen on bowing to him.

They turned and proceeded out of the hall of the mountain king with their dragons. Orik was waiting for them on the other side of the stone doors, an anxious expression on his face. He fell in with them as they climbed back up to Tronjheim's main chamber. "Did all go well? Were you received favorably?"

"I think so. But your king is cautious," said Eragon.

"That is how he has survived this long."

In Tronjheim's center, under the sparkling Isidar Mithrim, Orik said, "Your blessing yesterday has sturred up the Varden like an overturned beehive. The child Saphira touched has been hailed as a future hero. She and her guardian have been quartered in the finest rooms. Everyone is talking about your 'miracle.' All the human mothers seem intent on finding you and getting the same for their children."

Mariah's face turned red and she flicked her gaze to Eragon, who looked alarmed. He was furtively looking around him. "What should we do?" He asked. She started gnawing on her tongue, trying to work out a good string of curses for him for being so foolish.

"Aside from taking back your actions?" asked Orik dryly. "Stay out of sight as much as possible. Everyone will be kept out of the dragonhold, so you won't be disturbed there."

Saphira nosed his arm before padding down one of Tronjheim's four main tunnels, heading for the dragonhold. Mariah glanced up at her dragon and he snorted, looking after her. _I think it best I go along with Saphira. You will draw less attention to yourself without me following after you. Enjoy the day, and please restrain yourself from murdering the boy. I'll ask Saphira to clarify what has transpired. _Without another word, Andrar lumbered after the dragoness.

"I'd like some breakfast. And then I'd like to see more of Tronjheim; it's such an incredible place. I don't want to go to the training grounds until tomorrow, as I'm still not fully recovered."

Orik nodded, his beard bobbing on his chest. "In that case, would you like to visit Tronjheim's library? It's quite old and contains many scrolls of great value. You might find it interesting to read a history of Alagaësia that hasn't been tainted by Galbatorix's hand."

Mariah's eyes widened at the thought of a library, suppressing her anger towards Eragon for the moment, deciding it would be better to address it later with Saphira present. "Please, could you show us the way?" She asked eagerly.

"Very well."

After they ate, Orik guided them through myriad corridors to their destination. When they reached the library's carved arch, she stepped through reverently. Mariah instantly felt at home. It reminded her of the forest, rows of graceful colonnades branched up the dark, ribbed ceiling five stories above. Between the pillars, black-marble bookcases stood back to back. Racks of scrolls covered the walls, interspersed with narrow walkways reached by three twisting staircases. Placed at regular intervals around the walls were pairs of facing stone benches. Between them were small tables whose bases flowed seamlessly into the floor.

Countless books and scrolls were stored in the room. She hadn't seen so many since Ajihad's study, before that, in Teirm at Jeod's. And one shelf put Brom's collection back in Carvahall to shame. "This is the true legacy of our race," said Orik. "Here reside the writings of our greatest kings and scholars, from antiquity to the present. Also recorded are the songs and stories composed by our artisans. This library may be our most precious possession. It isn't all our work, though – there are human writings here as well. Yours is a short lived – but prolific – race. We have little or nothing of the elves'. They guard their secrets jealously."

"How long may I stay?" asked Eragon, moving toward the shelves.

"As long as you want. Come to me if you have any questions."

Mariah immediately hurried off to find something to read through. Her eyes darted along the spines of the books and their covers, overlooking some of the more ornate ones. Finally, she found a thin volume that looked neglected pinned between two silver-embossed black leather books and retrieved it. Her fingers skimmed over the worn, tattered pages and her eyes flashed over the words.

"How is it you picked the same one I did first?"

She spun on her heel, blinking at Mark. "What?"

"You picked that one up first. I did too," he said, smirking a little at her.

It was then that Mariah realized there was something wrong with his face. She reached up and snatched the glasses off his nose and examined them.

"I need those."

"Since when?"

He folded his arms, "Since I can't read clearly without them."

"You've never needed them before."

"I didn't know I needed them until now."

"Where did you get them?" Mariah asked, handing them back. He held them in his hand, looking down at her.

"Where did you go with Eragon?"

"To see Hrothgar."

"I hope you were polite. He is the king after all."

"I was, don't get snippy with me."

"I don't believe you. I'll have to go ask Eragon how well you behaved, is he here too?"

"Somewhere, I lost him at the entrance." Mariah said, looking around. Her eyes focused a ways off and spotted his blonde hair. He was standing next to a bookcase, with two other people nearby him. "The Twins."

Mark's face hardened and he pocketed his glasses before striding over.

"-gladden us more than if we could assist, in some small way, your path to glory. No repayment would be necessary, though if you saw fit to share some scraps of your own knowledge, we would be satisfied."

"Do you think I'm a half-wit?" Eragon demanded harshly. "I won't apprentice myself to you so you can learn the words Brom taught me! It must have angered you when you couldn't steal them from my mind."

"We are not to be trifled with, boy! We are the ones who will test your abilities with magic. And that could be _most_ unpleasant. Remember, it only takes one misconceived spell to kill someone. You may be a Rider, but the two of us are still stronger than you."

"I think you're forgetting that he doesn't come alone," Mark said, setting a hand on Eragon shoulder and stepping in front of him, the gap between him and the Twins closing rapidly. "There may be two of you, but there is also one of me. If you threaten Eragon again, well… you said it yourself. One misconceived spell can kill someone."

The two of them narrowed their eyes up at Mark. "We expect your answer tomorrow. Make sure that it is the right one." They said to Eragon before stalking deeper into the library.

Mark spun on his heel, looking at Eragon, "What did you do now?"

"Nothing, they stalked me in here and started going on about their magic group…"

"Stay away from them."

"They're the ones testing us on our magic tomorrow Mark, it's going to be difficult to stay away from them."

"Then I'll just have to go with and make sure they don't kill you. We're going, now. Get moving." He said, jerking his head toward the exit. Eragon scrambled ahead, Mariah following behind, winding through the bookcases until they found Orik sitting on a bench, busily polishing his war ax.

"We'd like to return to the dragonhold."

The dwarf slid the haft of the ax through a leather loops at his belt, then escorted them to the gate where Saphira and Andrar were waiting. People had already gathered around the dragons. Ignoring them, Mariah lifted herself into the saddle, pulling Mark up with her, and they escaped into the sky.

* * *

Âz knurl deimi lanok. – Beware, the rock changes

Forgive my absence as of late however, I am now done with exams for school

and have nothing else to do, besides work, which won't cut into my time nearly as deeply as my classes did.

I'll update again soon. I'm going to read Inheritance as well, as soon as possible. I have a few others I'm in

desperate need of reading, so it's about fourth on the list right now. Clockwork Prince is first - it's due back

to the library in two days. I have yet to open it.

Thanks for reviewing and liking the story, I work hard on it and I'm glad you enjoy reading it as much as I do writing it.

With Love, As Always,

Mariah


	39. Ch 38: Princesses

**Chapter Thirty-Eight: Princesses**

Andrar landed on the star sapphire, his claws scraping against its surface. Mariah leaped down from his back, Mark scrambling to follow. She turned and waited for Saphira to land. As soon as Eragon's feet hit the ground she shoved him, "What did you do!"

He blinked, looking up at her from the floor, scrambling backward a little, hitting his back against Saphira's scales. "What do you mean?"

"You did something yesterday. Orik said so, now explain what 'miracle' he was talking about."

"Oh… that," he sighed, rubbing his face. "You flew off so quickly and I was cornered by this woman with a baby. She begged me to do something for her and so I blessed the child. Saphira did something too… and now the girl has a silver spot on her forehead, like the Gedwey Ignasia."

"What do you mean by 'blessed'?" Mark asked, staring at him.

"I said a blessing… in the Ancient Language."

Mariah could hear her brother inhale slowly, his voice coming out still. "Tell me the words you used…"

"I-I don't remember exactly how I said them in the Ancient Language, but it translated into something like: may luck and happiness follow you and may you be shielded from misfortune. I was just trying to do something nice for her, I didn't think it was that big of a deal."

"Let's just hope that doesn't turn around to bite you in the ass," Mark said. "Never use the Ancient Language on a person. The words hold magic that makes every syllable binding. An oath taken as such is a bond and will kill a person if they break it. Don't do it again. You are influential enough without throwing magic into the mix. Am I clear, Eragon?"

"Yes, Mark…" he said, pale.

"Good, now stand up."

Eragon did so, brushing off his breeches, glancing up at Mariah who was still shooting daggers at him. "I'm sorry. What was I supposed to do?"

"Fly," she insisted. "Don't be such a moron, please. It's hard enough to keep you out of trouble." She stretched and sighed, looking over at her brother. "Where did you get your glasses?"

"None of your business. You don't need to know…" he said. "I'm going to sleep for a while. I was up late last night, and I'm tired. Can I trust the two of you will stay out of trouble for an hour?"

"Of course brother."

"Good," Mark walked over to the ladder embedded into the rock and climbed up, flopping down on Mariah's bed and closing his eyes.

Eragon looked over at her, "Well, now what?"

"Let's just take a walk, okay?"

He shrugged, "Sounds good. Hey, where did you go this morning anyway?"

Mariah started to descend the staircase and glanced over at him. "No place. Where did you go?"

"To see Angela."

"What?"

"Angela's here in Farthen Dur. Solembum led me to her earlier."

She blinked at him, "I didn't know she was here. That's strange. Did she say anything?"

"Not really. I didn't stay long." He admitted.

They arrived at one of the floors below Isidar Mithrim and decided to wander around the empty corridors. Mariah was still in awe of all the detail work the dwarves had put into building Tronjheim. It seemed as if not a single square inch had been overlooked.

"I'm sorry for yelling at you earlier," she said, brushing her hair back out of her face. "I just got worried you put yourself in a bad spot."

"It's alright," he smiled a bit. "Don't worry about it. I should have thought it through better than I did. It was my own fault. I'm just glad you're talking to me again. We haven't in a while, not really. I think you've been angry with me since Murtagh and I started fighting."

"Only a little." Mariah looked at him, returning the smile. "We've been busy running for days on end. There wasn't really time to talk anyway, even if I wasn't upset with you."

"I am sorry about those burns though."

She looked down at the backs of her hands and could see the faded speckling the embers had burned onto her skin. Murtagh had apologized for the same earlier. "I'd forgotten about it already." She said.

"Really?"

"Yeah, it's alright. It wasn't your fault anyway." Mariah smiled at him.

"Well, okay then." He said, walking with her quietly for a few minutes. "Are you overwhelmed by this at all? Any of it?"

"I don't think so. I'm more excited than anything I think. It's certainly taking some getting used to, but it's not that strange. And I still have you and Mark, so that helps."

"It does," he agreed. "Mark's definitely a huge help."

"And me?"

"What about you?"

She smacked him lightly, "I'm helpful too."

"Not as much as Mark," he chuckled.

"Okay, not as much as Mark." She had to agree with him on that. "Speaking of Mark, think we should be getting back?"

"Might not be a bad idea."

Eragon stopped and turned around, retracing their steps back to the hold. As they neared, they could hear someone speaking within the room. It was a female voice, but as soon as Mariah distinguished it, silence fell. He glanced at Mariah and she shrugged.

"Orik said no one should intrude on the dragonhold… I can't imagine who it would be."

She watched Eragon loosen Zar'roc in its sheath. He took a deep breath, then stepped into the hold, his hand on the sword. Mariah strode after him, blinking over his shoulder.

A young woman stood in the center of the room, looking curiously at Saphira, who had stuck her head out of the cave. The woman appeared to be about seventeen years old. The star sapphire cast a rosy light on her, accentuating skin the same deep shade as Ajihad's. Her velvet dress was wine red and elegantly cut. A jeweled dagger, worn with use, hung from her waist in a tooled leather sheath.

Mariah blinked, recognizing that dress. It was very similar to the one that had been brought to her the day of their arrival. Considering the girl had a similar build, Mariah could imagine that it had been made for her first. She looked around, realizing Andrar was curled up in his own cave, ignoring the woman. Mark must have been aware of her presence, but was simply ignoring her.

In front of her, Eragon crossed his arms, waiting for the woman to notice them. She continued to look at Saphira, then curtsied and asked sweetly, "Please, could you tell me where Rider Eragon or Lady Mariah is?" Saphira's eyes sparkled with amusement.

Mariah bit her lip, stifling a laugh, shaking her head, glancing at Eragon. He smiled slightly, "I am here."

The woman whirled to face them, hand flying to her dagger. Mariah already had her own in hand, ready to throw if needed. Her face was striking, with almond-shaped eyes, wide lips, and round cheekbones. She relaxed and curtsied again. "I am Nasuada," she said.

Sheathing her blade, Mariah blinked at the woman. "You obviously know who we are, but what do you want?"

Nasuada smiled charmingly. "My father, Ajihad, sent me here with a message. Would you like to hear it?"

This girl was Ajihad's daughter? Mariah blinked, finding the notion odd. After a moment however, she realized that she herself was an odd notion. Brom's granddaughter was not something everyone would think about as normal. "Of course."

Nasuada tossed her hair back and recited: "He is pleased that you are doing well, but he cautions you against actions like your benediction yesterday, Rider Eragon. They create more problems than they solve. Also, he urges you to proceed with the testing as soon as possible – he needs to know how capable you are before he communicates with the elves."

"Did you climb all the way up here just to tell me that?" Eragon asked. Mariah raised an eyebrow, noting her dress. Climbing Vol Turin's entirety in a gown was not something she ever wished to do.

Nasuada shook her head. "I used the pulley system that transports goods to the upper levels. We could have sent the message with signals, but I decided to bring it myself and meet you in person."

"Would you like to sit down?" asked Eragon. He motioned toward Saphira's cave.

Nasuada laughed lightly, "No, I am expected elsewhere. You should also know, my father decreed that you may visit Murtagh, if you wish." A somber expression disturbed her previously smooth features. "I met Murtagh yesterday… He's anxious to speak with you. He seemed lonely; you should visit him." She gave Eragon directions to Murtagh's cell.

Mariah sighed inwardly; now half-wishing she would have waited. It would have been much easier with directions in the first place.

"Thank you, Nasuada. What about Arya? Is she better? Can I see her? Orik wasn't able to tell me much." Eragon said.

She smiled mischievously. "Arya is recovering swiftly, as all elves do. No one is allowed to see her except my father, Hrothgar, and the healers. They have spent much time with her, learning all that occurred during her imprisonment." She swept her eyes over Saphira. "I must go now. Is there anything you would have me convey to Ajihad on your behalf?"

"No, except a desire to visit Arya. And give him my thanks for the hospitality he's shown us." Eragon said.

"I wish to meet with her as well, if you could ask that of him, I would be grateful. I would thank him for his kindness in person, however I know he is busy." Mariah added.

"I will take your words directly to him. Farewell, Rider Eragon and Lady Mariah. I hope we shall soon meet again." She curtsied and exited the dragonhold, head held high.

After a moment, listening to her footsteps recede, Mariah looked back toward her dragon. He now had one eye open and was looking down. _Has the woman left?_

_Yes._

"Was she as pretty as her voice?" Mark asked, leaning against the wall of Andrar's cave, stretching. "I woke when she arrived but soon realized it wasn't me she was after." He climbed down to the jeweled floor and looked at them.

"I would suggest chasing after someone who is not Ajihad's daughter, brother. It might prove ill for your health."

"You have a good point dear sister. Then I'm glad I didn't meet with her," he said, looking at Eragon. "You be careful of her. Her voice told me that she believes she holds some power of you. Both of you. She is the leader of the Varden's daughter, so I suspect she's had special privileges. I wouldn't put it past her to think she's better than you."

"Mark. I'm not worried about her," Mariah insisted. "Now, it's late. Are you going down to visit with Aluora?"

"Yes. Though avoiding that woman is going to be difficult if I'm walking down the stairs…" he said, thinking.

"Just ignore her. She's not after you anyway, you said so yourself."

"True," he nodded. "Alright. I'll see you in the morning. Get some sleep, both of you. You're testing tomorrow… I don't want either of you messing it up."

Mariah watched him walk down the stairs and sighed. "He needs to stop freaking out so much."

"Agreed." Eragon said.

"Are you tired?"

"Not really." He admitted, shrugging. "We can stay up for a while."

Mariah nodded and climbed up to Saphira's cave, sitting on the floor and dangling her legs in the air, looking down at Tronjheim. "I still can't get over how beautiful this place is. I never imagined anything like it existed."

Eragon looked up at her before following, sitting beside her. "We were still in Carvahall not even a year ago."

"It's only been a few months… and everything's changed so much." She brushed her hair behind her ear again and blinked, looking over at him. "You need a haircut."

"Really, Mariah, that's the idea that won out in your head? I need a haircut?" He snorted a laugh.

"What? You do."

"Fine, do it now then if you're so worried about it."

"I will," she insisted, climbing over to Andrar and finding her sharpest knife. Mariah returned and made him sit away from the edge.

"How exactly are you going to- hey!" He shut his eyes as she poured water on his head.

"Just be quiet. You can find a mirror later," she insisted, smoothing out his hair and carefully cutting away chunks with her dagger. Mariah slowly evened it out until his hair was fairly cropped. She squinted a bit and ruffled his blond locks dry before nodding, satisfied. "There. Much better. You'll appreciate it more later."

"You know, Mark's hair is getting pretty long too."

"I'll get him tomorrow. Remind me."

"Oh, I will." He said, running his fingers over his scalp. "It does feel better, thanks."

"Welcome." Mariah sat down next to him, shoving the knife in her boot.

Eragon looked over at her, "I was sad when you cut all your hair off."

"Really?" She asked, flicking a strand out of her face. It was to her shoulders now, not quite long enough to pull back fully.

"Yeah, I mean. It's been long forever. I can't ever remember you cutting it any shorter than the middle of your back. You didn't really look like Mariah afterward."

"That had been the whole point you know," she said, smiling. "Hiding from the Empire in any way I could… even if it meant disguising myself as a boy."

"Didn't work very well now did it?"

"Hey, I convinced all the maids I was a boy. It must have worked a little, at least."

"I don't know how you did it. You don't look very much like a guy."

"I did what I had to, if you hadn't gone and got captured-"

"Mark did too."

"-if you hadn't gone and got captured I wouldn't have had to come save you with Murtagh."

"We should go see him tomorrow. Nasuada said he was lonely… I feel awful about his situation."

"Don't feel too bad," she said.

"Why not?"

Mariah blinked, not really wanting to tell him she'd already been to see Murtagh. "Well, I just don't think Ajihad would treat him that badly, regardless of who his father was or what he's done. Ajihad just doesn't seem like the type of man to punish someone while he's holding them prisoner."

"Then we should go see him tomorrow." Eragon decided.

"After we go for the testing Ajihad wants us to participate in, alright?"

"Alright," he nodded, yawning.

"You're tired."

"A little."

"Then get some sleep. I'll see you in the morning," she stood and ruffled his short hair before climbing up the rungs of the ladder to Andrar.

"Good night Mariah…"

On the morning of the third day in Tronjheim, Mariah woke up alert and ready. Testing day. She dressed and belted her sword to her waist, tucking away her daggers and climbing down onto the star sapphire. She met Eragon on the floor and they flew down to one of Tronjheim's four main gates to meet with Orik. Unable to help himself, Eragon asked about Nasuada.

"An unusual girl," answered Orik, glancing disapprovingly at Zar'roc. "She's totally devoted to her father and spends all her time helping him. I think she does more for Ajihad than he knows – there have been times when she's maneuvered his enemies without ever revealing her part in it."

"Who is her mother?"

"That I don't know. Ajihad was alone when he brought Nasuada to Farthen Dur as a newborn child. He's never said where he and Nasuada come from."

"Where should we go for this 'testing' of Ajihad's?"

Orik pointed out into Farthen Dur. "The training field is half a mile from Tronjheim, though you can't see it from here because it's behind the city-mountain. It's a large area where both dwarves and humans practice."

Andrar snorted, _Saphira and I wish to come along._

"Can our dragons come with us?"

Orik pulled on his beard, "That might not be a good idea. There are many people at the training field; you will be sure to attract attention."

Saphira growled loudly in protest and Andrar narrowed his eyes at the dwarf. "I'm sorry to tell you this, but no matter how much attention they draw, they're coming with."

Mariah looked up at the bell-like sound of hooves on stone. Aluora trotted over, throwing her mane back and whinnying. Her brother looked down at her, "Good morning. Nice to see you awake and ready to go." His eyes flicked to Eragon. "I can't say you look better, but at least you don't look like a girl anymore."

"Mark, stop it."

"Sorry," he smirked and blinked at Orik. "I can show them the way to the training grounds. I found them yesterday, I don't believe we'll get lost."

"I am still expected to escort the Riders to the training grounds, so you will have to follow me. That way you are certain not to get lost."

"Fair enough," Mark smiled, nodding. "After you then." The walk was leisurely enough. Orik walked hastily, but the Riders' leg length more than made up for his pace. Aluora trotted brilliantly beside the dragons, as if trying to look every bit as regal as the magical creatures.

Finally, the unruly clatter of fighting reached them from the field: the loud clang of steel clashing on steel, the solid thump of arrows striking padded targets, the rattle and crack of wooden staves, and the shouts of men in mock battle. The noise was confusing, yet each group had a unique rhythm and pattern.

The bulk of the training ground was occupied by a crooked block of foot soldiers struggling with shields and poleaxes nearly as tall as themselves. They drilled as a group in formations. Practicing beside them were hundreds of individual warriors outfitted with swords, maces, spears, staves, flails, shields of all shapes and sizes, and even someone with a pitchfork. Nearly all the fighters wore armor, usually chainmail and helmet; plate armor was not as common. There were as many dwarves as humans, though the two kept mainly to themselves. Behind the sparring warriors, a broad line of archers fired steadily at gray sack-cloth dummies.

Before they had time to wonder what they were supposed to do, a bearded man, his head and block shoulders covered by a mail coif, strode over to them. The rest of him was protected by a rough oxhide suit that still had hair on it. A huge sword – nearly as long as Mariah – hung across his broad back. He ran a quick eye over the group, as if evaluating how dangerous they were, then said gruffly, "Knurla Orik. You've been gone too long. There's nobody left for me to spar with."

Orik smiled. "Oei, that's because you bruise everyone from head to toe with your monster sword."

"Everyone except you," he corrected.

"That's because I'm faster than a giant like you."

The man looked at Eragon, "I'm Fredric. I've been told to find out what you can do. We'll start with you first, then test your female companion. How strong are you?"

"Strong enough," answered Eragon. Mariah folded her arms, impatient. "I have to be in order to fight with magic."

Fredric shook his head; the coif clinked like a bag of coins. "Magic has no place in what we do here. Unless you've served in an army, I doubt any fights you've been in lasted more than a few minutes. What we're concerned about is how you'll be able to hold up in a battle that may drag on for hours, or even weeks if it's a siege. Do you know how to use any weapons besides that sword and bow?"

Eragon paused for a moment, "Only my fists."

"Good answer!" laughed Fredric. Mariah smiled, he'd seemed intimidating upon first meeting him, however after his laugh boomed from his chest, she didn't feel the need to be worried any longer. "Well, we'll start you off with the bow and see how you do. Then once some space has cleared up on the field, we'll try-" He broke off suddenly and stared past them, scowling angrily.

She glanced behind her only to see the Twins stalking toward them, their bald heads pale against their purple robes. Orik muttered something in his own language as he slipped his war ax out of his belt. "I told you to stay away from the training area," said Fredric, stepping forward threateningly. The Twins seemed frail before his bulk.

They looked at him arrogantly. "We were ordered by Ajihad to test the Riders' proficiency with magic – _before_ you exhaust them banging on pieces of metal."

Fredric glowered. "Why can't someone else test them?"

"No one else is powerful enough," sniffed the Twins. Saphira rumbled deeply as Andrar hissed, barring his long fangs as long and round as one of their forearms. They ignored the threats. "Come with us," they ordered, and strode to an empty corner of the field.

Eragon shrugged, following with Saphira. Mark had already dismounted Aluora and was holding onto her reins. He turned to look at Orik as Fredric spoke. "We have to stop them from going too far."

"I'm afraid you won't get the chance. If they have any intention of harming either my sister or Eragon, they'll have to deal with me first." Mark insisted. "If you must stop me, do so after I have stopped them." Without waiting for a response, he snatched Mairah's hand and walked her after Eragon.

Orik followed, speaking to Fredric in a low voice, "I can't interfere again. Hrothgar made it clear he won't be able to protect me the next time it happens."

"Then you won't interfere. I will." Fredric said.

Mariah pulled her hand from Mark's grip and caught up to Eragon, looking at him. _Don't be worried. _

_They know more words and techniques than I do. Maybe even more than you or Mark._

_No one knows more than Mark. _

_I'm not so sure about that, Mariah._

She sighed, _You remember what Brom told you? About Riders and their magic?_

_Being stronger than ordinary men? Yes. But is that enough to resist their power? There's two of them._

_There's two of us. _Andrar snorted, aware of the conversation. _Four of us, if you count the dragons. And there's Mark. Don't worry we have them outnumbered._

He smiled a bit and took her hand, squeezing it for a moment, still clearly nervous. Eragon dropped her silver palm and looked at the twins.

"And how do you answer us, Eragon?"

Mariah's face burned as she glared at them. Eragon spoke flatly, "No."

Sharp lines appeared at the corners of the Twins' mouths. They turned so they face Eragon obliquely and, bending at the waists, drew a large pentagram on the ground. They stepped in the middle of it, then said harshly, "We begin now. You will attempt to complete the tasks we assign you… that is all."

"Both of us, or one at a time?" Mariah asked. "I don't know if you could handle two Riders at once."

They glared at her and her mouth flicked into a tiny smirk, seeing that she'd nit a nerve. "We shall test both of you at the same time."

One of the Twins reached into his robe, produced a polished rock the size of Eragon's fist, and set it on the ground. "Lift it to eye level."

"Yours or mine?" Mariah asked smartly.

"Yours…" One of them said slowly.

Before she had time to do anything, Eragon was already speaking. "Stenr reisa!" She sighed and watched the rock wobble, then smoothly rise from the ground. Before it went more than a foot, something stopped it midair. A smile touched the Twins' lips. Mariah blinked, wishing Eragon would have expected something to resist them. She snatched his wrist and pressed her own energy through her fingertips and watched the rock shoot straight upward, hovering at eye level.

"No assisting one another!"

"You didn't say that earlier," she said, dropping his wrist. "The two of you are helping one another, why can't we?"

"Because we are testing you, not the other way around. No assisting one another from now on." They calmed back down, "Now, move the stone in a circle." Behind them, Mariah could hear a shuffle of footsteps. She glanced back and saw Fredric looking a little unnerved by the magic display. Eragon moved the stone again, clearly facing opposition on the Twins' part, though prevailed after a moment of persistence and a little help from Saphira.

The exercises quickly increased in complexity and difficulty. Mariah took turns with Eragon so they both had an opportunity to rest for a moment after completing one task. If Eragon started taking more time to come up with the proper words, she would slip into his mind and help him work it out with her own vast vocabulary. During each performance, the Twins fought with them, though the strain never showed on their faces.

_Why are they doing this to us?_ Eragon asked, brushing a bead of sweat from his hairline. _Our abilities were clear enough from what they saw in our minds. _He paused, _They're using this as an opportunity to figure out what ancient words we know… and learn new ones themselves._

_I'm glad you figured it out,_ Mariah said. _Don't speak the words so loudly, just enough for you to hear, not them._

He nodded and turned back to the Twins. From then on, he used only a handful of basic words to complete the tasks. Mariah kept her own words simple as she whispered them to herself. Their sentences and phrases became convoluted as the limited vocabulary tried to make up for better words. The Twins' faces contorted with frustration as they continued to thwart their plans over and over. No matter how they tried, they could not get them to use any more words in the ancient language.

More than an hour passed, but the Twins showed no sign of stopping. Her mouth was dry and she felt stiff from standing so long in once place however, she wasn't about to sit down on the ground and show any weakness, despite what relief it would bring. There were many tests: manipulating water, casting fire, scrying, juggling rocks, hardening leather, freezing items, controlling the flight of an arrow, and healing scratches. They never seemed to run out of ideas.

Finally the Twins raised their hands and said, "There is only one thing left to do. It is simple enough – any _competent _user of magic should find this easy." One of them removed a silver ring from his finger and smugly handed it to Eragon. "Summon the essence of silver."

Mark started over to them, his jaw set with anger. Eragon stared at the ring for a moment, clearly thinking. Mariah's eyes widened as she saw him part his lips. She smacked his hand as a clear, vibrant voice split the air. "Stop!" The ring clattered to the ground.

Mariah snapped her head up, turning to face the voice. Arya's voice. A leather strip encircled her brow, restraining her voluminous black hair, which tumbled behind her shoulders in a lustrous cascade. She swallowed and could only remember when her own hair had been that long. The elf's slender sword was at her hip, her bow on her back. Plain black leather clothed her shapely frame, poor raiment for one so fair. She was taller than most men, and her stance was perfectly balanced and relaxed. An unmarked face reflected none of the horrific abuse she had endured.

Arya's blazing emerald eyes were fixed on the Twins, who had turned pale with fright. She approached on silent footsteps and said in soft, menacing tones, "Shame! Shame to ask of him what only a master can do. Shame that you should use such methods. Shame that you told Ajihad you didn't know their abilities. They are competent. Now leave!"

Mark picked up the ring on the ground, examining it. "She told you to leave." His gaze flicked to the Twins, who were still unmoving. He stood and held the ring out to them, "Arget."

The silver shimmered, and a ghostly image of the ring materialized next to it. The two were identical except that the apparition seemed purer and glowed white-hot. At the sight of it, the Twins spun on their heels and fled, robes flapping wildly. The insubstantial ring vanished from his hand, leaving the circlet of silver behind. He twisted the metal between his fingers, looking over at the newest arrival. Orik and Fredric were on their feet, eyeing Arya warily.

The elf surveyed them all. Her angled eyes paused on Eragon and Mariah. Then she turned and strode toward the heart of the training field. The warriors ceased their sparring and looked at her with wonder. Within a few moments the entire field fell silent in awe of her presence.

"I claim the right of trial by arms. Draw your sword."

Mark shook his head and walked behind the Riders. "Who's going to fight with her first?" He asked in a whisper.

Eragon glanced over at Mariah. _First? She's in no shape to fight anyone. She just recovered yesterday._

_She seems set on fighting with us. Are you tired from all the testing?_

He paused, _Admittedly, yes. However, she wants to fight._

_Give me your sword._

_What? _He blinked and looked at her, _That's… no you can't use Zar'roc. Besides, I'm a better swordfighter than you are. She's an elf, she'd probably beat you easily, even with her injuries._

Her face flushed red. _When's the last time you fought with me? You don't know what you're talking about. Stay here and recover, since you're so drained from testing. I'm fighting with her._ Mariah unbelted her sheath and shoved it at Mark after drawing her sword. She strode forward to meet Arya in the circle that had formed around them.

_Don't hurt her!_ Eragon called.

Mariah shot him a glare, knowing that would be the last thing on her mind. She turned to face Arya, "I accept."

The she-elf seemed slightly surprised, but hid it well. She drew her sword with her left hand. The weapon was thinner than Mariah's, but just as long and sharp. Mariah held her blade at her side, point down, waiting. She let out a silent, steady breath, readying herself before stepping forward, moving first.

Arya jumped at her, slashing towards her chest. Reflexively, Mariah parried the attack, meeting her sword in a shower of sparks. Her sword was battered aside, leaving Mariah open. Arya didn't take the advantage, but spun to her right, hair whipping through the air, and struck at his other side. She twisted, stopping the blow and stepped backward smoothly, trying to adjust to her speed. Mark fought with her just as fiercely on normal days, but he wasn't nearly as fast.

She knew the elf was far more skilled than her, and that her own energy was drained nearly to its limit, but she was determined to beat her. Mariah could remember Mark's words after hearing Ajihad think lesser of her than Eragon simply for being a girl. _Let him think as he wants for now, but promise me that you'll show him how pathetic you are during your testing, alright?_ She was stronger than Eragon, better trained than he was, and she knew she could beat Arya, no matter what.

* * *

Stenr reisa - Stone Rise

Arget - Silver

Thank you so much for all your reviews and story favorites - each time I open my mail and see that someone else has added me to their list makes me smile.

Minor cliffhanger, sorry. I had to break the chapter somewhere and couldn't find a better spot.

Only a few more chapters - I think probably five or so at most. Then, book two: I'm working on the title right now.

With Love, As Always,

Mariah


	40. Ch 39: Sweat and Tears

In lieu of the heavy comments on the last chapter, I decided to post this next one early. I've had the last six chapters written for a while. One weekend in March I sat down and wrote six chapters, saving them and spreading them out so you would have something to read while I was too busy with exams to write new chapters. I posted them without much editing... and decided to cut this one short because of the reviews.

I do hope you stick with me through this. I'm not trying to make Mariah a Mary-Sue. That is definitely not my intention. If you have suggestions or can pick out something in particular that's bothering you, please review or send me a PM. I will read and respond upon request. I have not edited this chapter at all. This is what I wrote several weeks ago and it's what I'm sticking with. I hope your concerns will be answered in this chapter, I'll see you at the end.

* * *

**Chapter Thirty-Nine: Sweat and Tears**

She attacked again, swinging at Mariah's head. She ducked under the razor-sharp edge. The Rider growled slightly, realizing the elf was toying with her. This was a test after all. She slipped under her next attack and caught the hilt of her blade with her own, twisting and flicking her hand upward, pressing against the elf with her entire weight. The sword flew from Arya's hand and landed in the dirt.

Mariah stepped back, straightening herself and raised her head in one smooth motion. Her arm flicked out, holding her blade against Arya's neck. "I believe it's Eragon's turn." She lowered her sword and stepped away from her as the crowd cheered around them, now looking toward Eragon for a second fight.

As Arya went to retrieve her sword, Mariah walked back to her brother and Eragon. She narrowed her eyes at the other Rider. _If you beat her, you fight me next and we'll see who the better fighter is. Don't insult me; I don't appreciate it, Eragon._

His face twisted into a harmed expression and he lowered his head slightly, _I'm sorry Mariah._

_Don't apologize. It doesn't solve anything, go and show her that you are proficient with your sword and I'll forgive you. Are you better rested now?_

_Yes. _

_Then go, and try to do your best. I can't help you with this testing. You're on your own._ Mariah flicked a smile at him, trying not to be angry as he walked past her to the elf. She took her sheath back from Mark and tied it back to her waist.

"You did a good job, but I hate to tell you… she let you win that fight."

"What?" Mariah blinked at her brother.

He sighed, "Yeah. She could tell you were upset - I know I could – and she let you win. When you knocked her sword away, she sort of just let go. It was smooth, she made it look like your doing, but it wasn't. She could tell you were a good fighter and let you win."

"How can you be so sure?"

"I spoke with her yesterday, made sure that her wounds had healed. She asked about you and Eragon, so we talked for a while. I know she let you win. I fought with her some yesterday and she is not easy to win against. Trust me."

Mariah flicked her head around to watch Eragon fight with her, wanting to watch and see for herself how powerful the she-elf really was. If she had been holding back with her, what could she do without doing so? By now, Eragon was going through the most complicated series of attacks he knew. He flowed from one pose to another, recklessly combining and modifying them in every possible way. But no matter how inventive he was, Arya's sword always stopped Zar'roc. She matched his actions with effortless grace.

Engaged in a fiery dance, their bodies were linked and separated by the flashing blades. At times they nearly touched, taunt skin only a hair's breadth away, but then momentum would whirl them apart, and they would withdraw for a second, only to join again. Their sinuous forms wove together like twisting ropes of wind-blown smoke.

Her lips parted slightly as she watched the battle, realizing Arya had indeed been holding back. Mariah had been reckless and fought with her out of anger instead of intellect. She bit the inside of her lip and sighed. Mark set a hand on her shoulder and squeezed, "It's alright. You were upset and not thinking clearly."

"It's not alright; I shouldn't be like that when I fight. I shouldn't be like that ever; I can't let my emotions control my actions, that's what gets people killed."

He fell into silent agreement, watching the battle. At last, as Eragon lunged forward, Arya nimbly sidestepped, sweeping the point of her sword up to his jawbone with supernatural speed. Eragon froze as the icy metal touched his skin. His muscles trembled from the exertion. Saphria bugled from nearby as the crowd cheered around them. Fredric walked past Mariah and thumped Eragon on his back enthusiastically. "That was incredible swordsmanship! I even learned some new moves from watching you. And the elf – stunning!"

She looked at Eragon and blinked. _I lost._

_So did I._ Mariah admitted to him. Before he could respond, Arya blinked at them and walked off, barely motioning towards a knoll about a mile from the practice fields. The crowd melted before her. A hush fell over the men and dwarves as she passed.

Eragon turned to Orik, "I have to go. I'll return to the dragonhold soon." He jabbed Zar'roc into its sheath and pulled himself onto Saphira. She took off over the training field, which turned into a sea of faces as everyone looked at her, they turned back to look at Mariah but she had already climbed onto Andrar's back. He was soaring after the dragoness. Mark and Aluora made their way around and through the crowd to follow Arya.

As they soared toward the knoll, she saw Arya running below them with clean, easy strides. Mariah watched her carefully and sighed. _You're jealous of her darling._

_I'm not._

_You have been since the moment you laid eyes on her. I know so._

_Your point is?_

_I have none. I just wish for you to not be jealous of the she-elf. She may be older than you, stronger and wiser, but she is not a Rider. And if I may say so myself, you are much more beautiful, especially inside. She seems far too cold and calculating for me to think highly of her personality. _

_But she's still better than me, in every single way._

He snorted and flicked his head to look back at her. _I disagree, and you will have to see that for yourself one day. I know you don't see it now, but you are every bit her equal. _

Mariah sighed a little and sat quietly in the saddle until they landed. Arya was close behind them and Aluora was trotting up the hill close after. Her fleet stride carried her faster than any runner Mariah had ever seen. When she reached the top of the knoll, her breathing was smooth and regular. Eragon's mouth moved for a moment, but no words came out and he quickly dropped his gaze from her. As Mariah dismounted, Arya strode past him to Saphira, "Skulblaka, eka celobra ono un mulabra ono un Shur'tugal ne haina. Atra nosu waise ficaya." She looked over at Andrar as well.

Saphira shuffled her wings and surveyed Arya curiously. Then she nodded, humming deeply. Flayme lifted his head, looking at the she-elf, emitting a deeper hum from his chest. Arya smiled. Mariah blinked, finding that the action looked strange on her features, instantly making her seem much more pleasant to be around.

"I am glad that you recovered," Eragon said. "We didn't know if you would live or not."

"That is why I came here today," said Arya, facing him. Her rich voice was accented and exotic. She spoke clearly, with a hint of trill, as if she were about to sing. "I owe you a debt that must be repaid. You saved my life. That can never be forgotten."

"It – it was nothing," said Eragon, fumbling with his words.

Mariah resisted the urge to glare at him and faced Arya instead, "You owe us no debt. That you are alive and well is payment enough for us both."

"Arya Svit-kona," Mark leaped down from his saddle, holding Aluora's reins. "I'm pleased to see you on your feet again so quickly."

"If your aim was to tire me out for today's events, your efforts were in vain yesterday, if anything it better prepared me for testing them."

"Then I am glad I sparred with you previously, they both deserved the fights they got, I think." He smiled a bit at her. "Now then, shall we continue our previous conversation, or begin anew seeing as these two are with us."

"I would think it unfair to continue," Arya said to him. "We shall begin a new discussion."

"How did you come to be in Gil'ead?" Eragon asked, looking at her again finally.

Pain shadowed Arya's face and Mariah could tell she didn't particularly want to start there. She looked away into the distance. "Let us walk." They descended from the knoll and meandered toward Farthen Dur. They walked after her in silence, none of them dare breaking it before the elf. Finally Arya lifted her head and said with the grace of her kind, "Ajihad told me you were present when Saphira and Andrar's eggs appeared."

"Yes." Eragon said. Mariah nodded, blinking at the woman.

Her next words were heavy. "Then know this: at the moment you first beheld it, I was captured by Durza." Her voice filled with bitterness and grief. "It was he who led the Urgals that ambushed and slew my companions, Faolin and Glenwing. Somehow he knew where to wait for us – we had no warning. I was drugged and transported to Gil'ead. There, Durza was charged by Galbatorix to learn where I had sent the egg and all I knew of Ellesméra."

She stared ahead icily, jaw clenched. "He tried for months without success. His methods were… harsh. When torture failed, he ordered his soldiers to use me as they would. Fortunately, I still had the strength to nudge their minds and make the m incapable. At last Galbatorix ordered that I was to be brought to Uru'baen. Dread filled me when I learned this, as I was weary in both mind and body and had no strength to resist him. If it were not for you, I would have stood before Galbatorix in a week's time."

Eragon shuddered inwardly. Mariah blinked and looked at her, "Why do you tell us all this?"

"So that you know what I was saved from. Do not presume I can ignore your deed." Arya told her, flicking her emerald eyes at the girl.

Mariah swallowed. She didn't want the elf-woman to be in her debt. She didn't want anyone to be in her debt or to owe anyone anything either. More than anything, she wanted her to just accept that Mariah had helped save her, thank her, and get on with her life. Mariah met Arya's gaze, "I shall not then."

Eragon bowed his head to her, "What will you do now – return to Ellesméra?"

"No, not yet. There is much that must be done here. I cannot abandon the Varden – Ajihad needs my help. I've seen you tested in both arms and magic today. Brom taught you well. You are ready to proceed in your training."

"You mean for us to go to Ellesméra?"

"Yes."

Eragon looked at her, "When?"

"That is yet to be decided, but not for some weeks."

"What did the Twins want me to do?"

Mariah shook her head, looking over at Mark who sighed, still angry with the Twins for trying to force them to perform that kind of magic.

"Something not even they can accomplish. It is possible to speak the name of an object in the ancient language and summon its true form. It takes years of work and great discipline, but the reward is complete control over the object. That is why one's true name is always kept hidden, for if it were known by any with evil in their hearts, they could dominate you utterly."

"It's strange," said Eragon after a moment, "but before I was captured at Gil'ead, I had visions of you in my dreams. It was like scrying – and I was able to scry you later – but it was always during my sleep."

Arya pursed her lips pensively. "There were times I felt as if another presence was watching me, but I was often confused and feverish. I've never heard of anyone, either in lore or legend, being able to scry in their sleep."

"I don't understand it myself," said Eragon, looking at his hands. Arya followed his gaze for a moment and blinked, a flash of recognition hit her face. Mariah blinked.

"You have a ring with the yawe on it?" she asked sharply.

Eragon blinked, "Uhm… what? Oh, yes…" he showed her. "It was Brom's."

Arya's gaze flicked over to Mariah and she knew what was going through her mind. "Yes. I did see it on your shoulder while I was healing you – your tattoo. They're the same. I did make the connection, but thought it a personal thing and decided it better not to ask you."

The elf examined the sapphire ring, then said, "This is a token given only to the most valued elf-friends – so valued, in fact, it has not been used in centuries. Or so I thought. I never knew that Queen Islanzadi thought so highly of Brom."

"I shouldn't wear it, then," said Eragon.

"No, keep it. It will give you protection if you meet my people by chance, and it may help you gain favor with the queen. Tell no one of my tattoo. It should not be revealed."

"Very well." Mariah nodded, "I shall tell no one."

Arya nodded, "I must take my leave of you now. We shall see one another again soon." She turned and strode off, leaving them.

Mark watched the elf leave before turning to his sister and Eragon, "Well. Are you two exhausted yet or no?"

"I think I'm going to talk to Murtagh. There's a lot left of the day, but I don't feel up to doing much more. Mariah, do you want to come along?"

"Ah… no, I'm rather tired," she lied.

He blinked at her, "Are you sure?"

"Yes, go on ahead. I'll see you this evening when you return to the dragonhold."

"Very well," he said, walking away with Saphira lumbering beside him.

Mark watched him leave, waiting until he was out of sight before looking at his sister, "You already went and saw him." She sighed and started walking back toward Tronjheim. He followed after, leading Aluora. "Mariah, you did, didn't you?"

"You went and saw Arya before either of us did," she snapped. "I can do what I want to. I don't need your permission for everything."

"No, but I do like knowing where you are," he said, stopping and looking toward the stables. Mark placed a hand softly on his mare's nose and whispered a few Elvish words to her. She threw back her head and trotted off on her own to her stall. When he looked back, Mariah was already vanishing down a corridor, forcing him to run to catch up. "I'm not angry with you."

"Oh really? You sound like you are."

"I'm not. I figured you sneaked off with good reason, and you're right, I would have insisted you didn't go visit him. Especially since Ajihad didn't really say you could yet." He sighed. "But I don't mind, really. I know you get along with him better than I do."

"That's an understatement." Mariah told him, turning around to face him. Andrar flicked open his wings and stretched, preparing to fly. "C'mon, let's at least get out of the way if you're going to lecture me about it." She climbed up into his saddle, helping Mark get up behind her. With a heavy wing flap, Andrar lifted them into the air and flew them up to Isidar Mithrim in a matter of minutes.

Mark landed quietly on the ground, folding his arms as Mariah dismounted. Andrar moved and jumped up to his cave, curling up to sleep, ignoring them. She shook her head and unbelted her sword, climbing up to her temporary room and setting it down under her bed. Sitting on the edge, she let her feet dangle and finally looked back at her brother. He didn't seem angry, but there was something still edgy to his voice.

"What are you thinking?"

"About Arya. I spoke with her at length yesterday, though she was extremely guarded with everything she said. She was less so with the two of you today. I just found it interesting." He looked up at her, "I can't tell if she likes you or not."

"Me neither."

"Well don't get so upset over it, what's it matter?"

"She's important. I want her to like me."

"Because you know she has influence and you want to be on her good side," he smirked. "Now you sound like me. That can't be good for your health."

"Usually not. I want to like her, but I… she… it's difficult," Mariah said flatly.

"Why?"

"Why is it difficult for me to like her?" She asked. Mark nodded. "Because… I don't… really know."

"Course you do, it's just a matter of if you want to tell me or not."

"I'm jealous of her."

"How so?"

"She's… beautiful, for one." Mariah started, "I noticed the first time I laid eyes on her. You can't possibly say otherwise."

Mark smiled at her, "Arya is an elf. She looks exotic and different than any human woman I've ever seen, if nothing else she is unique and that is what makes her so attractive. She also seems distant and strange because she's foreign. We're not used to her customs, her speech or her actions. It draws attention to her, that's why Eragon stares at her so captivatingly."

Ignoring his comment for the time being, she continued, "Now that I have seen her use of a sword, I am devastated to find that my own skills are far inferior to her own. Next to her I look like a pathetic child with a stick."

"Do you know how long she has been practicing swordsmanship Mariah?"

"No."

"Far longer than you've even been alive. Arya has time on her side because of her immortal age, she has had years to perfect her sword skills, where you have only known how to hold a blade for half your life, and you are not yet sixteen."

"Please, stop reminding me." Mariah muttered, sighing into her hand.

"So you are jealous of her because she is a perfect being in every way?" There was a smirk hidden in his voice, but it dropped with his next words, "Mariah… don't be jealous of her. You are the one thing she is not and never will be. That alone makes you more special than she is."

"I don't want to be special," she told him, her voice tightening. "I just want him to stop staring at her like she's an immortal goddess and ignoring me..."

"Damn it Mariah…" he muttered with a sigh. Mark climbed up the ladder and sat down next to her, wrapping an arm around her shoulders and pulling her against him tightly. "The stress of all this finally made you snap after all. I didn't think it would, you were doing so well keeping it all bottled inside. For a while I thought I was making it up."

She turned her face against his chest and started crying.

"Shh… it's okay," he said softly, stroking her hair. "Mariah, you can't do this. You need to stop crying, it's not doing any good."

Shaking her head, she sniffled and sobbed harder.

"It's not worth it."

"What?" she finally managed to get out.

"Fighting for it. Not right now anyway," Mark said. She pulled away and blinked at him, appalled he would say such a thing. "Don't waste your time trying to make yourself better than her because you're trying to impress someone. There'll be time for that later. You'd be wasting energy that you could better use elsewhere. Instead of trying to be better than her, learn from her. Don't hate her, be her friend and figure out what she has to share. Remember that your actions show who you really are, and that no one's going to like a jealous little girl, who cries when she's ignored by the people that matter to her. You know who they do like? The confident young woman who takes everything bad that has ever happened in her life and turns it into her strength. You get to choose, Mariah, who you want to be. Pick the better choice." Mark told her, kissing her forehead. "Now get some sleep, you're exhausted from those tests today and need to rest."

Mariah wiped at her face, nodding slowly. "Good night Mark."

"Good night. I'll sleep up here with you tonight, alright? I'll stay close by."

She smiled a bit, wiping her tears away again and crawling into her bed, closing her eyes and falling asleep.

Mark sighed and watched her for a moment before stretching out on the floor beside Andrar and passing out.

* * *

I'm sorry if the chapter was shorter than usual. However, I wanted to post it because of your comments.

"Mariah shouldn't be able to beat Arya." - My answer: No, she shouldn't. Arya is far too skilled for anyone to beat her. No one can beat her, not right now at least. It was more embarrassing for Mariah to believe she won the fight and then realize she actually lost. It's one thing to know you've lost. It's another to be on cloud nine and then get shot through the heart with lightning when you get a dose of reality.

If you haven't noticed by now, Mariah's biggest flaws are her over confidence and jealousy. She thinks she's tougher than she is - she needed to be knocked down a few pegs. She is extremely jealous of other people - whether they be Arya, Nasuada, Eragon, Murtagh... or even her brother. Her most terrifying nightmare is being powerless. I don't want Mariah to be a Mary-Sue. I don't believe she is...

She is a scared, fifteen year old little girl with no parents, thrown into a war where she is looked upon to lead and her only savior is her older brother.

My apologies if I sound preachy, defensive, or cornered. I wanted to express my feelings, but I would still like to know what you think about everything. I wanted this chapter to be a turning point. Is it?

With Love, As Always,

Mariah


	41. Ch 40: Battle Preperations

**Chapter Forty: Battle Preparations**

"Mariah."

She flicked her eyes open and stared up at her brother. His face was pale, the only light coming from the faint lantern glow.

"We have to go, now." She more heard than saw him move away and hurried out of bed, changing her clothes out and belting her sword onto her waist.

"You must come, Argetlam! Great trouble – Ajihad summons you. There is no time!" Mariah looked over the edge of the cave and saw a dwarf standing in the entrance to the cave, wringing his hands.

"What's wrong?" She heard Eragon ask.

The dwarf only shook his head, beard wagging. "Go, you must! Carkna brâgha! Now!"

"He says there's danger." Mark translated.

Immediately, Mariah set to work saddling Andrar, swinging herself up onto his back once the straps were secure. The dragon shook his head, stretching out a bit as she reached down to help Mark. He gripped her forearm, fully armed and ready to go, pulling himself up into the saddle behind her. With a small roar, Andrar snapped his yawning mouth shut and clambered to the floor of Isidar Mithrim. He opened his wings and launched off the tower, soaring down to Tronjheim's gate.

Saphira landed beside him, looking at Orik. His face was grim as he spoke, "Come, the others are waiting." He led them through Tronjheim to Ajihad's study.

"What's going on?" Mariah asked, finding it difficult to keep up with the dwarf.

"I don't know enough myself - wait until you hear Ajihad."

She bit her lip and refrained from pestering him more, he seemed agitated enough without her questioning.

The large study door was opened by a pair of burly guards. Ajihad stood behind his desk, bleakly inspecting a map. Arya and a man with wiry arms were there as well. Ajihad looked up. "Good, you're here. Meet Jörmundur, my second in command."

The parties acknowledged each other, then turned their attention to Ajihad. "I roused the seven of you because we are all in grave danger. About half an hour ago a dwarf ran out of an abandoned tunnel under Tronjheim. He was bleeding and nearly incoherent, but he had enough sense left to tell the dwarves what was pursuing him: an army of Urgals, maybe a day's march from here."

No one breathed. It was as if the oxygen had been sucked right out of the room. Then Jörmundur swore explosively and began asking questions at the same time Orik did. Mark smirked a bit, leaning up against the wall by a bookshelf. Arya remained silent. Ajihad raised his hands. "Quiet! There is more. The Urgals aren't approaching _over_ land, but _under_ it. They're in the tunnels… we're going to be attacked from below."

Eragon raised his voice in the din that followed. "Why didn't the dwarves know about this sooner? How did the Urgals find the tunnels?"

"We're lucky to know about it this early!" bellowed Orik. Everyone stopped talking to hear him. "There are hundreds of tunnels throughout the Beor Mountains, uninhabited since the day they were mined. The only dwarves who go in them are eccentrics who don't want contact with anyone. We could have just as easily received no warning at all."

Ajihad pointed at the map, Eragon moved closer, but Mark was already standing next to the leader of the Varden, examining it. The map depicted the southern half of Alagaësia, but unlike Brom's, it showed the entire Beor Mountain range in detail. Ajihad's finger was on the section of the Beor Mountains that touched Surda's eastern border. "This," he said, "is where the dwarf claimed to have come from."

"Orthíad!" exclaimed Orik. At Jörmundur's puzzled inquiry, he explained, "It's an ancient dwelling of ours that was deserted when Tronjheim was completed. During its time it was the greatest of our cities. But no one's lived there for centuries."

"And it's old enough for some of the tunnels to have collapsed," said Ajihad. "That's how we surmise it was discovered from the surface."

"Ithrö Zhâda," Mark blinked, looking up at Ajihad.

He nodded grimly, "Yes. I believe so. The Urgals are calling it that now that they've grouped there. It's where the Urgal column that was chasing you was supposed to go, and I'm sure it's where the Urgals have been migrating all year. From Ithrö Zhâda they can travel anywhere they want in the Beor Mountains. They have the power to destroy both the Varden and the dwarves."

Jörmundur bent over the map, eying it carefully. "Do you know how many Urgals there are? Are Galbatorix's troops with them? We can't plan a defense without knowing how large their army is."

Mark looked at him dubiously, preparing a retort when Ajihad replied unhappily, "We're unsure about both those things, yet our survival rests on that last question. If Galbatroix has augmented the Urgals' ranks with his own men, we don't stand a chance. But if he hasn't – because he still doesn't want his alliance with the Urgals revealed, or for some other reason – it's possible we can win. Neither Orrin nor the elves can help us at this late hour. Even so, I sent runners to both of them with news of our plight. At the very least they won't be caught by surprise if we fall."

"Runners?" Mark asked, blinking and looking up from the map. "You sent runners to Ellesméra and Surda? Why didn't you just have one of your magic users scry them?"

He stared at Mark for a moment, "I thought the message better delivered in person."

"I see." He said simply, moving from the table and walking around the room behind his sister.

Ajihad drew a hand across his coal-black brow. "I've already talked with Hrothgar, and we've decided on a course of action. Our only hope is to contain the Urgals in three of the largest tunnels and channel them into Farthen Dûr so they don't swarm inside Tronjheim like locusts.

"I need you, Eragon and Arya, to help the dwarves collapse extraneous tunnels. The job is too big for normal means. Two groups of dwarves are already working on it: one outside Tronjheim, the other beneath it. Eragon, you're to work with the group outside. Arya, you'll be with the one underground; Orik will guide you to them. Ah, and Mark, if you would assist Eragon-"

"Of course." Mark said, cutting his sister off before she could say something unreasonable.

"Why not collapse all the tunnels instead of leaving the large ones untouched?" asked Eragon.

"Because," said Orik, "that would force the Urgals to clear away the rubble, and they might decided to go in a direction we don't want them to. Plus, if we cut ourselves off, they could attack other dwarf cities – which we wouldn't be able to assist in time."

"There's also another reason," said Ajihad. "Hrothgar warned me that Tronjheim sits on such a dense network of tunnels that if too many are weakened, sections of the city will sink into the ground under their own weight. We can't risk that."

Jörmundur listened intently, then asked, "So there won't be any fighting inside Tronjheim? You said the Urgals would be channeled outside the city, into Farthen Dûr."

Ajihad responded quickly, "That's right. We can't defend Tronjheim's entire perimeter – it's too big for our forces – so we're going to seal all the passageways and gates leading into it. That will force the Urgals out onto the flats surrounded Tronjheim, where there's plenty of maneuvering room for our armies. Since the Urgals have access to the tunnels, we cannot risk and extended battle. As long as they are here, we will be in constant danger of them quarrying up through Tronjheim's floor. If that happens, we'll be trapped, attacked room both the outside and inside. We have to prevent the Urgals from taking Tronjheim. If they secure it, it's doubtful we will have the strength to roust them."

"And what of our families?" asked Jörmundur. "I won't see my wife and son murdered by Urgals."

The lines deepened on Ajihad's face. "All the women and children are being evacuated into the surrounding valleys. If we are defeated, they have guides who will take them to Surda. That's all I can do, under the circumstances."

Jörmundur struggled to hide his relief. "Sir, is Nasuada going as well?"

"She is not pleased, but yes." All eyes were on Ajihad as he squared his shoulders and announced, "The Urgals will arrive in a matter of hours. We know their numbers are great, but we _must_ hold Farthen Dûr. Failure will mean the dwarves' downfall, death to the Varden – and eventual defeat for Surda and the elves. This is one battle we cannot lose. Now go and complete your tasks! Jörmundur, ready the men to fight."

"Ajihad," Mariah said, stopping him in his tracks. "I will not sit idly by while everyone else is assisting in this."

"You are not going to sit idly by."

"Then what do you propose I do?"

"Along with my daughter, Nasuada, you are to evacuate into-"

"I am not evacuating anywhere," she said.

Eragon cleared his throat a bit, "Mariah I don't think it's a good idea for-"

She swiveled on her heel to look at him. "Go ahead, finish."

"I don't think it's a good idea for you to stay here and fight. You'd be safer in the valleys."

"I think you're forgetting the fact that I'm a Rider, I'm staying." She turned to Ajihad, "And I'm helping. And I will fight, whether you like it or not. I am a child in your eyes, I am younger than your own daughter, however I wish to stay and fight. No one can deny me that."

"I can." Ajihad said patiently, though he clearly wanted the conversation to end.

"I have a dragon who says otherwise. I'm going to help collapse the tunnels, and then I'm going to fight."

He took a deep, calming breath, "You are to assist Arya underground, go. We have better things to be doing than arguing here."

"You know if you were not a Rider you would be going with Nasuada."

Mariah glanced up at her brother, walking beside him swiftly, "Why would you even bring that to my attention?"

"Because I have half a mind to send you off with her anyway."

"I won't go, even if you tell me to do so."

"I know, which is why I'm not bothering," Mark said to her, smirking a bit. "Play nice with Arya." He insisted, running off to help the dwarves and Eragon collapse the tunnels.

She sighed and caught up with Orik and the elf. Andrar flicked his tail, waiting for them at the entrance to the large underground caverns.

"The easiest way to collapse them will be to locate the frailest sections holding up the tunnels," Arya said, striding alongside the dwarf.

Mariah scratched her arm and sighed a bit, "How would we find them… Orik, you could probably find them quickly enough."

"Indeed," he said simply.

_Glad I could be of so much help. _Mariah rolled her eyes. Andrar snorted behind her and tucked his wings in tighter.

Once they were inside the first extraneous tunnel, Orik went straight up to the dwarf in charge of collapsing it. They spoke in rapid Dwarvish and Mariah didn't even bother trying to keep up, she doubted Mark could have even caught any of it. When he turned back to them he spoke slower, "We shall set to work on finding the weak points immediately, please give us a few moments to work."

"Alright," Mariah nodded, watching as Arya strode over to the nearest wall and placed her palm on it flat. A grinding noise emitted from the mountain, followed by a loud crashing noise.

"That was one… a few more sections should collapse the entire tunnel. Then we can move onto the next one."

Throughout the next several hours, they walked through the underground tunnel network, collapsing as they went. Mariah listened to Arya a few times, but mostly ignored her, pushing the inner workings of the mountain around until she could feel a shift deep within the rock.

"That should be the last of them," Arya said, looking at Orik.

He nodded, "Yes, we need to return to the surface. The army is assembling and you need to prepare for battle." Arya strode off before moving into a sprint, vanishing up the stairs in a blink. "Mariah, Andrar, please come with me." He started after Arya, leaving Mariah to follow.

She blinked and hurried to catch up. They surfaced and she looked around. There was light coming in slightly from the small patch of sky above them, but definitely not enough to see by. As Orik lead them through the crowds, she saw men and dwarves shrugging into armor. Each section of the Varden's army bore their standard: a white dragon holding a rose above a sword pointing downward on a purple field.

_That seems a bit… girly, don't you think?_

_Perhaps it was Nasuada's design. _Andrar mused.

_For some reason I don't believe she would even choose purple and flowers for a battle sign._

Most of the men were silent, lining up into their battalions. Many of them were only wearing a sword and shield. A few of the ranks were of spear- and pikemen. Archers lined the rear of each battalion, readying their bowstrings and loading their quivers.

The dwarves' armor was heavier. Burnished steel hauberks that hung to their knees; thick roundshields stamped with crests of their clans. Short swords were sheathed at their waists, in their right hands mattocks or war axes. Their legs were covered with extra-fine mail; all of them wore iron caps and brass studded boots.

"You can eat and rest for a while here," he said, leading them to a tent at the base of Tronjheim. "I shall return shortly."

Mariah found a table inside the tent with bread and water. She shrugged, "Better than nothing…" Slipping into a chair, Andrar poked his nose in, eying a pile of dried meat. He flicked out his tongue and tasted one before chomping straight in. "Chew with your mouth closed please," she said through a mouthful of bread.

He snorted at her and removed his head when he'd finished, looking at Orik who had returned, leading a line of dwarves burdened with tall piles of plate armor. Orik lifted a section of it, beaming at Mariah. She blinked and rocketed out of her chair, standing in front of him. "Armor?"

"Yes, indeed. A gift from Hrothgar." He seemed pleased with himself, "It was forged in another age, before the fall of the Riders."

"It's dragon armor," she said, half asking him, holding her breath.

"Of course! I do hope the pieces fit, though the armor is not complete."

She grinned, "I don't care if all you have is the helm, I am extremely grateful. Thank you so much, please tell Hrothgar I appreciate his gift."

"I shall," Orik nodded.

Andrar blinked over at them and snorted. _I believe you need armor, not me little one._

_You're going to need it if you want to protect me._

_Very well._ He shifted and pulled in his wings so they could put the armor on him. The dwarves and Mariah quickly set to work placing the pieces on and fitting them together. Her eyes picked out the missing pieces instantly. They would not be able to fit on the tail armor, because one of the major pieces that held them together wasn't there. The front right leg pieces were missing as well, and to keep the armor even, she opted not to put the matching sections on the other side. When they finished, everything but his tail, front legs and wings were encased in armor. He lifted his neck, _How does it look?_

_You're still missing one piece._ She picked up the helmet and had him lower his head down. Mariah fitted it over his eyes and locked it in place. "Now you are ready for battle."

He snapped his jaws sharply and barred his fangs. _I welcome it._

"Mariah."

She turned to look at Orik.

"I am afraid there is no armor that would fit you that we possess." He seemed upset at the notion.

Mariah smiled, "That's quite alright. I am not so worried about myself if I am to be riding an armor-encased dragon. I doubt anyone or anything will be able to get past that."

"You underestimate our enemy then," Arya said, walking up to them. Mariah blinked at her, gaping at the handiwork covering her body. Her outfit must have been Elvish make, because the intricacy of the details were rivaled by the dwarves, but definitely not similar in the least. "Come with me. I shall put you in my own armor. You aren't going to get killed on my watch, Rider."

She turned back to Orik quickly, "Thank you again. I appreciate everything you've done for Andrar. It shall keep him safe during the battle." He smiled at her words, watching her run after the she-elf before she could disappear.

"You are to hold still while I fit the armor on you, if you move you will cause yourself more pain. It will not fit you properly as it is, since your build is different than my own, however it should fit you better than any other armor within your reach would."

To avoid giving Arya the opportunity to inflict pain, she obliged, holding as still as she could. They were in Arya's quarters, a room seemingly set up for when she traveled to and from the Varden. It was sparse, except for the essentials.

A leather jerkin was pulled over her head; it felt stiffer than leather and she soon realized it was embedded with burnished metal, adding protection to vital areas without losing any flexibility. There was a high collar to protect her neck as well; Mariah turned her head, finding it didn't hinder her movement very much at all. Arya wrapped a chainmail skirt around her waist over her black pants, belting it tighter than Mariah would have herself. Over the mail, a leather and metal strapped kilt attached to the belt. The worn leather boots that Mariah had arrived in were soon covered with metal greaves. Arya strapped them on tightly so they wouldn't fall off, since they were nearly too large for her. She let Mariah put on her own vambraces and handed over a pair of gloves, steel embedded into the backs.

"Here is your helmet," she said, holding it out to her. "Does it all seem to fit?"

"Yes… quite well actually," Mariah said, taking it from her. She held it under her arm, "I appreciate you allowing me to wear all this."

"If you were to fall because you were not properly outfitted for battle and I knowingly allowed you to participate without preparing you, I would be responsible for your death. That, I do not wish upon myself."

Mariah blinked, "Again… it's appreciated."

Arya nodded and walked from her quarters to return to Tronjheim. "You may do as you like now, you are outfitted and ready. I would suggest you rest somewhere quietly until you are needed." She took it upon herself to not wait for a response, walking off and disappearing into the crowd of soldiers.

Andrar tipped his head slightly, surveying her new outfit, _I am glad to see you in something more battle-ready. With you in armor, I feel much better about your choosing to fight._

"Mariah!"

She spun around, blinking at the man walking towards her - a soldier with a hand-and-a-half sword. "Murtagh? What are you doing here?"

He smirked, removing his helmet. "Ajihad clearly believes that I will assist more than damage in a fight against the Urgals, even if I turn on the Varden."

"I'm glad he decided to let you out of your room."

Murtagh nodded, noticing her change of clothes, "You're fighting. Why am I not surprised?"

"Because you know I'm a valuable asset in any battle." She said, "I'm of more use here than with the evacuation party."

"Where is your brother? And Eragon?" He asked.

"They were collapsing the tunnels earlier and helping to ready for the attack. I haven't seen them in hours."

"Would you like to come along with me then? I'm off to get Tornac."

She looked at Andrar who merely emitted smoke from his nose. "Very well. I shall accompany you." Murtagh nodded and headed off toward the stables. "Where did you get your armor?"

"The helmet is a spare, and the rest mis-matched pieces left over from the armory. The dwarves let me have this shield, but it appears to have been well used before now…"

"Let's just hope it keeps you safer than its previous owners."

He chuckled, "And you? I know you did not arrive with all of that. And it's certainly not made for a man."

"Arya's auxiliary set I believe… she was already wearing her own and I believe this is probably her old armor. The set she's wearing seems less worn." Mariah said, tightening one of her vambraces. "Admittedly, I was getting a little worried about fighting without any sort of protection."

Murtagh looked over at her, "I doubt your brother would have allowed it."

"Don't see how he could have done anything about it."

"He would have insisted you flee from the fight before it began."

"Perhaps, but he doesn't have a dragon to argue for him."

"True. Well, either way I'm glad you're staying. And I'm glad you've armor to help protect you." He blinked, entering the stables, coming face to face with Mark, fully armed and armored.

"What are you doing here?" He sneered.

"Helping," Murtagh insisted, brushing past him to Tornac who whinnied and tromped in place until he was nearer.

Mark turned on his sister, falling silent. After a moment he asked, "Is that Arya's?"

"It is," she smirked. "No excuse now as to why I can't fight, is there? Look, Orik even gave me armor for Andrar." The dragon tipped his head to look at Mark, roaring quietly.

"I see…" he huffed and turned back to Aluora. She was half dressed in steel plating. The front of her neck and torso were completely covered and Mark was working on her flanks as Mariah stared. "I had to bribe one of the dwarves into finding it." Aluora snorted underneath her formed helmet.

Mariah bit her tongue, "You're evil, you know that."

"Why? Because I want to keep my horse safe?"

"You spent who knows how long procuring armor for your horse instead of your sister."

"Because I didn't want you fighting."

Murtagh walked over, leading Tornac, "Well I for one am glad to have Mariah fighting. If it's a choice between two Riders or one, I'll take two."

He set his jaw, "She's also not your sister. It's different when your only family is one of the largest targets on the field."

"Mark are you ready to go?" Mariah interrupted before he could lose his mind.

"Yes," he said, straightening up and taking Aluora's reins. "We should find Eragon or Orik."

"Whoever we run across first, yes." She nodded, walking out and back to her dragon. "Andrar, do you see Saphira anywhere?"

_I shall look for her, _he insisted, lifting his head and scanning the area. After a moment he leaped into the sky, unable to find her within his sights. Mariah watched as he flew a ways off and then dropped. _She is here, at the entrance to one of the tunnels. Orik is here as well._

They followed his flight path to the tunnel. Emerging through clusters of soldiers, Mariah saw Saphira, pleased to see she was fully armored, like her own dragon. The set on the smaller dragoness was more ornate and entirely complete. Beside her sat Orik and Eragon, both fully outfitted for a war. She smiled and hastened to them, watching Eragon's hand tighten around Zar'roc and Orik jump to his feet. It took half a moment to realize that Murtagh was walking behind her.

"It's all right; Ajihad released me."

"Why would he do that?" demanded Orik.

Murtagh smiled wryly. "He said this was an opportunity to prove my good intentions. Apparently, he doesn't think I would be able to do much damage even if I did turn on the Varden."

"How do we know you're not lying," asked Orik.

"Because I say so," announced a firm voice. Ajihad strode into their midst, armed for battle with a breastplate and an ivory-handled sword. He put a strong hand on Eragon's shoulder and drew him away. His eyes turned to Mariah and she followed silently. Once they were far enough away from everyone else, so they would not be overheard he spoke again. "Orik and Arya outfitted you."

"Yes…" Eragon said. Mariah nodded. "Has anything been seen in the tunnels?"

"Nothing." Ajihad leaned on his sword. "One of the Twins is staying in Tronjheim. He's going to watch the battle from the dragonhold and relay information through his brother to me. I know you can speak with your mind. I need you to tell the Twins anything, _anything_, unusual that you see while fighting. Also, I'll relay orders to you through them. Do you understand?"

Eragon said, "I do."

Mariah bit her tongue, "If the orders aren't to my liking, I'm going to be disinclined to follow them Ajihad. However, I will follow through if they seem for the best."

"That is not your decision to make, Mariah. Follow your orders. I am in command today, not you. Do you understand?"

She stared at him for a moment before nodding, "Fine."

Ajihad paused, "You're not foot soldiers or horsemen, nor any other type of warrior I'm used to commanding. Battle may prove differently, but I think you will be safer on the ground. In the air, you'll be a choice target for Urgal archers. Will you fight on dragonback?"

"I'm not sure what we'll do. When I'm on Saphira, I'm up too high to fight all but a Kull."

"It'll depend on the situation. The safest place in this battle will be on the back of my dragon, I'll remain in his saddle until it proves to be disadvantageous."

"There will be plenty of Kull I'm afraid Eragon," said Ajihad. He straightened, pulling his sword out of the ground. "I believe staying on your dragons will be safest for you both. The only advice I can give you is to avoid unnecessary risks. The Varden cannot afford to lose you." With that, he turned and left.

She looked at Eragon and smiled a bit. _I'm sure everything will be all right._

_We should get back now._ He said, walking to Orik. She watched as he sat down next to Saphira, leaning his shield against his knees. Mariah sighed at his attitude and followed, sitting between Murtagh and her brother. The entire company waited in silence. Occasionally she could hear a cough echoing around, or a horse whinnying. The quiet was eerie and she visibly shivered. Her eyes flicked over her companions.

As she surveyed Murtagh beside her, Eragon stood abruptly and hastened away. She blinked and watched him approach Arya, sitting about thirty feet away with her bow in her lap. They spoke for a moment before Eragon turned and hurried back to Saphira.

"What did she say?" Murtagh asked, looking at him curiously.

"Nothing."

Mariah watched him. _She's an elf Eragon. She can take care of herself, even if she is female._

_Exactly. You're both girls, you shouldn't be fighting. _

_Don't say stupid things like that. She's more powerful than both of us combined, probably Mark as well. You know that. I'm glad to have her here; she's stronger than anyone else and in a battle against Urgals and Kull, that's what we're going to need._

_I don't like it._ He said, shutting her out of his mind.

She shook her head and scoffed. Murtagh blinked at her, "What?"

"Nothing."

Wrapped in their own thoughts, the defenders sank into a brooding silence as the hours crawled by. Farthen Dûr's crater again grew black, except for the sanguine lantern glow and the fires heating the pitch. Eragon altered between myopically examining the links of his mail and spying on Arya. Orik repeatedly ran a whetstone over the blade of his ax, periodically eying the edge between strokes; the rasp of metal on stone was irritating. Murtagh just stared into the distance and Mark was reading from a book he'd pulled from Aluora's saddlebag. Bored, agitated and nervous, Mariah spent her silence observing her companions, growing more tired as they waited.

Occasionally, messengers ran through the encampment, causing the warriors to surge to their feet. But it always proved to be a false alarm. The men and dwarves became strained; angry voices were often heard. The worst part about Farthen Dûr was the lack of wind – the air was dead, motionless. Even when it grew warm and stifling and filled with smoke, there was no reprieve. As the night dragged on, the battlefield stilled, silent as death. Muscles stiffened from waiting.

Finally Orik said, "It's late. We should sleep. If anything happens, the others will wake us." Murtagh grumbled. Eragon, clearly too tired to complain, curled up against Saphira, using his shield as a pillow.

Mark motioned to his sister and she moved over next to him. He wrapped his arm around her shoulder and pulled her into a hug, kissing her forehead. "Get some rest…" he said, watching her fall asleep, _because it's going to be hell when you wake up. _Andrar curled up behind them, allowing his rider and her brother to lean against him as they slept.

* * *

Carkna brâgha – Great danger

Quite a bit of this was my own writing, and I'm happy to say I'm feeling better about writing outside the book.

Only a few more chapters left... excited? I am.

**EDIT: Only one more chapter left for _Eragon_. **

With Love, As Always,

Mariah


	42. Ch 41 Finale: Blood

**Chapter Forty-One: Blood**

Andrar lifted his head, watching as a soldier came running from a nearby tunnel. He went straight to Ajihad and the rest of the army readied themselves for the battle that would ensue. The dragon stretched his limbs, waking his Rider. She blinked and rubbed her eyes.

_It has begun._

Mariah turned to her brother, shaking him awake. He yawned and helped her to her feet before turning to his horse and pulling himself up in her saddle. Andrar flicked his tail, forcing several soldiers nearby to retreat from his vicinity, before Mariah climbed up onto his back.

_Today we fight together fully armed for the first time._

_Let's not let it be our last._

_Agreed._ He emitted smoke from his nostrils and listened to the silence, staring into the dark tunnel ahead of them. Minutes dragged by slowly until finally a voice broke the silence.

"I hear them!" A man cried.

The warriors stiffened; grips tightened on weapons. No one moved… no one breathed. Somewhere a horse nickered.

Harsh Urgal shouts shattered the air as dark shapes boiled upward in the tunnel's opening. At a command, the cauldrons of pitch were tilted on their sides, pouring the scalding liquid into the tunnel's hungry throat. The monsters howled in pain, arms flailing. A torch was thrown onto the bubbling pitch, and an orange pillar of greasy flames roared up in the opening, engulfing the Urgals in an inferno. Mariah glanced at the other two battalions and saw similar fires by each. Her fingers twitched as she readied her bow.

More Urgals soon tamped the pitch down and clambered out of the tunnels over their burned brethren. They clumped together, presenting a solid wall to the men and dwarves. Behind the palisade Orik had helped build, the first row of archers pulled on their bows and fired. Eragon, Arya and Mariah added their arrows to the deadly swarm and watched the shafts eat through the Urgals' ranks.

The Urgal line wavered, threatening o break, but they covered themselves with their shields and weathered the attack. Again the archers fired, but the Urgals continued to stream onto the surface at a ferocious rate.

There must have been thousands of them. Mariah's gaze flew over the mass of enemies before them. Their army must have been at least half their size, and there were still unknown numbers of them in the tunnels. Galbatorix's men, if they were indeed coming, weren't in sight as of yet and she could only hope they hadn't come along.

The opposing army formed a solid mass of bodies that seemed to stretch endlessly. Tattered and sullen standards were raised in the monsters' midst. Baleful notes echoed through Farthen Dûr as war horns sounded. The entire group of Urgals charged with savage war cries.

_I believe fire is going to be needed during this fight,_ Andrar said. _I would suggest warning those around us before the flames engulf them as well._

_I have a better idea. _Mariah said, _Let's fly over and give them a distraction, shall we?_

Andrar snorted and flicked out his wings. Mark's head snapped towards them and he started yelling, but she couldn't make out his words over the Urgal shouts. The dragon shot off into the air, banking and soaring back over the tunnel entrances, releasing a stream of flames from his jaws.

The Urgals shrieked beneath them and readied their archers, shooting up towards them. Andrar pushed heavily with his wings and lifted higher before they could reach him before diving back to the ground, landing amidst a group littered heavily with Urgals. Mariah released arrows one after another, not watching a single one long enough to observe it plunging deep into their throats.

Her dragons swept his tail out, bashing a Kull away before he could get any closer to his Rider. She turned and shot an arrow into his neck, then two more once she realized it wasn't slowing him down any. She quickly ran out of arrows and replaced her bow, drawing her sword from her hip and bashing the nearest Urgal on the head. Blood spurted over her and she winced slightly as some landed close by her eye. _Disgusting._

Andrar snapped ferociously and lashed out with his talons at those before him, spewing fire at any out of his reach. There wasn't a single human or dwarf within fifty feet of the dragon, only Urgals dared to get close, and even they were diminishing. Kull started swarming to their area when the smaller Urgals finally slowed their attempts at the Rider.

Mariah caught sight of Saphira about a hundred feet away, thrashing about. Her heart stopped for a moment when she realized Eragon wasn't on her back. She quickly flicked her eyes around the dragoness, looking for him, letting go of the breath she'd been holding when she saw him on the back of Tornac. He hastened back into her saddle and Murtagh rode away, swinging his blade wildly.

As she turned back to her own immediate fight, she was surprised to find they had been surrounded by Kull, wielding long spears and jabbing towards her and Andrar. He spun back and forth, sweeping his tail around and releasing fire from his jaws. His snarl finally erupted into a roar and he pounced forward, chomping down onto the nearest Kull, crunching him between his fangs. Blood poured out from his mouth and he turned to the next one. A Kull at his back lashed forward with the spear to attack Mariah. She twisted in the saddle and blocked the attack, flinging the weapon back.

The dragon let out another roar as a spear was driven deep into his un-armored tail, bursting through the other side and pinning it to the ground. He twisted around and grabbed the lance with his teeth, pulling it back out and tossing his head, throwing the weapon into the battle. Snarling, he turned his head back again only to see his Rider being flung out of her saddle.

The lance whipped around, smashing into her stomach and lifting her right off Andrar's back. She hit the ground out of breath and bruised. Quickly struggling to her feet, Mariah lifted her sword, spinning and fending off the nearest attack. She ducked below another wild swing from a spear and charged forward, thrusting her blade into the Urgals' chest. He fell and she pulled her sword back, dripping with blood, twisting to face her next opponent.

Her vision went black as something barreled into her, knocking her to the ground. As her head spun, she knew she had to regain her footing and rose back up. She coughed heavily as her body was hurled into the wall behind her. Mariah barely had the sense to keep hold of her blade as she toppled to the ground, feeling a rush of hot pain through her left thigh as she shouted.

Andrar roared, releasing more flames and trying to make his way to his rider. He clawed towards her to no avail, being forced to pull his head back away from lances prodding at his eyes.

As her eyesight faded back, she saw a large Kull in front of her, looking slightly confused. He had jabbed his spear into her leg so she couldn't move. Seemingly contemplating, he didn't notice her stirring. However, he did notice the shout from behind him just before his neck spun halfway around, cracking sharply.

"I thought I told you to stay nearby me. I've been worried sick," Mark removed the spear, healing her leg. She hissed slightly as the muscles formed back together. Keeping hold of the lance, Mark grabbed her arm, hauling her back to her feet and pushing her to lean against the wall. "Stupid girl." He trailed off, healing the large gash on her forehead before she could lose any more blood.

Mariah blinked slowly at him and breathed easy for a moment, tipping her head back against the stone as relief flooded over her mind. "Thanks…"

"You're welcome, now please stay close. I can't protect you if you go flying off without me."

"We'll try." She grimaced slightly, bending her knee towards her chest to test the wound. It had healed well enough. Mariah tightened the grip on her sword and looked to Andrar, spewing flames around all over his enemies. Bracing herself, she pushed off from the wall and rushed to his side, jumping over a dead Kull and grabbing hold of his saddle, pulling herself onto his back.

"Mariah!" She looked over and caught the spear Mark threw to her, "You'll reach farther with that."

She smirked a bit and nodded, jabbing towards the next Urgal that tried to attack them. Catching sight of Aluora, she said, _Watch out for Mark and his horse. I don't want you burning them as well._

_I'll avoid them best I can._ He assured her. _Is your mind open to anyone else? There has been no word from the Twins._

She sighed and stabbed another enemy through the throat, _I should contact them._ After a moment of mental searching, she found their consciousness and brushed against it hesitantly. _Are there any orders from Ajihad?_

_No. Stay where you are._

_Fine._ She pulled away quickly and returned to her stabbing and slashing. Out of the corner of her eye she saw her brother getting overwhelmed. Quickly, she directed Andrar to them. He bounded over, tail lashing and chomped down on the Kull behind Aluora. He threw his head back, releasing the corpse into a few more nearby. Twisting, he shot flames at anything else nearby, slashing with his claws if they avoided the fire. In no more than a minute, they were surrounded by dead Urgals.

Mark pulled back on Aluora's reins and looked around. "I had everything under control you know."

"I know," she said, smirking. "We're taking another flight to see if anyone else needs help, stay safe." The dragon flicked open his wings and launched straight up, twirling and shooting over the armies to survey the battle.

Their flight showed Mariah exactly how the battle was progressing. There were three separate fights raging in Farthen Dûr, one by each open tunnel. The Urgals were disadvantaged by the dispersal of their forces and their inability to get all of their army out of the tunnels at once. Even so, the Varden and dwarves could not keep the monsters from advancing and were slowly being driven back toward Tronjheim. The defenders seemed insignificant against the mass of Urgals, whose numbers continued to increase as they poured through the tunnels.

The Urgals had organized themselves around several standards, each representing a clan, but it was unclear who commanded them overall. The clans paid no attention to each other, as if they were receiving orders from elsewhere. She wished she could figure out who was in charge and kill them already. I might end the fight sooner, or at least put their enemies into a chaotic panic.

She could see Saphira's glittering scales in the mass of enemies nearby the Dwarves' group lead by King Hrothgar. The battle wasn't going well for them, despite their battle aptness. As she looked around, none of the battles seemed to be going well for any of them. Mariah looked around and spotted her brother on his white horse, now among a larger group of horsemen. Satisfied he was safe for the moment, she looked around some more, narrowing her eyes. _Help me find Murtagh. I want to know he's safe as well. _

_As you wish darling,_ Andrar said, jerking upward to avoid an arrow flurry that had targeted them. He flicked his eyes around and looped into a dive, crushing several Urgals the young man had been fending off.

Mariah stabbed downward and through the chest of a Kull, however he pulled backward and dragged her along with him. Her eyes widened and she landed with her foot on his face, jumping down and drawing her sword. Pivoting, she stabbed upward and sliced through his neck in one sweep.

"Get back on your dragon before you're killed," Murtagh said, appearing beside her on Tornac. He guarded her from another Urgal attack while she remounted Andrar.

She drew her sword, having forgotten to retrieve the lance. "We came to help you."

"You're causing more of a distraction than anything else!" He insisted, moving Tornac beside them, blinking up at her for a moment. "Go somewhere else; I'm sure there are others that need more help than us."

She shook her head and let Andrar wipe out more of the forces nearby them before taking off back into the sky. Over the next few hours, she spent her time jumping between her brother, Murtagh and Ajihad. She barely saw Arya, only catching the glimmer of her armor between their allies. Only once did she feel the need to assist Eragon and Saphira who were getting overwhelmed.

"Are you alright?" She asked, pulling him back to his feet, her sword tight in her hand. Andrar shielded them, blowing a ring of flames around them and bashing Urgals with his tail.

He nodded, "Think so."

"Be more careful," she insisted, looking him over and healing up the deepest gashes quickly. "It can't last much longer." Mariah smiled at him encouragingly.

Eragon let out a small sigh, picking his sword back up. "I hope not. I'm getting exhausted."

"Here," she grabbed his hand, looking at Brom's ring and focusing on it. Mariah dragged some of the magic stored inside it and pulled it into her own body. Once she felt a little relief, she pressed nearly three times as much into him.

His eyes widened a bit and he smiled, "Thanks Mariah."

"Of course." She said as Saphira moved back behind him, slashing and chomping towards the Urgals.

As his smile dropped a bit, he stepped forward with one hand still gripping Zar'roc, "Stay safe, please." Eragon wiped a splotch of blood off her face and climbed back into Saphira's saddle.

Mariah turned and leaped back onto Andrar. He snorted and returned to Mark again. As the hours passed, their allies steadily grew more exhausted, the Urgals and Kull pouring in their reinforcements from the surrounding tunnels. Her body ached and she had since stopped healing herself to conserve energy. Her dragon's wings were littered with tiny holes from arrows, his flanks bleeding and crusting his sunset scales with blood.

Suddenly there was an annoying buzz coming from the back of her mind, she tried to ignore it for a moment, before remembering about the Twins.

_There are loud noises coming from under Tronjheim. It sounds like Urgals are trying to dig into the city! We need you, Eragon and Arya to collapse any tunnels they're excavating._

She flicked her eyes around and saw Eragon and Saphira a ways off. Arya leaped onto Saphira's back and they took flight. Mariah turned to find her brother and shouted towards him, _They're attacking under Tronjheim. I have to collapse the tunnels!_

He snapped his head towards her, _Wait for me. I'm coming with you! _

_There's no time!_ She insisted, holding tight as Andrar shot into the air.

He watched her fly off and returned to the attacking Urgal with a shout, whirling Aluora around and charging her through the battling armies towards Tronjheim.

Andrar landed heavily inside the gates and looked around. _They did say Tronjheim, did they not? I hear nothing._

Mariah blinked, "Maybe it was coming from a different part…"

_They said underground, there is only one way under Tronjheim – down. I hear nothing._

She climbed down from her dragon's back and looked around, listening. Then something else hit her, "Where's Eragon? And Arya?"

Andrar shook his head, _They should have arrived already. They flew ahead of us. _

She turned to climb back into his saddle when a loud explosion sounded from just behind her. Mariah twisted around, drawing her sword and watched as a chunk of the chamber floor buckled and blew thirty feet up. Andrar shielded her from the needle spray of rocks that rained down. The twisted shapes of Urgals clambered out of the hole in the floor, in front was a tall thin figure.

"So, you are the other Rider." She blinked and stared into Durza's eyes. The Shade smirked and tipped his head a bit. "I remember your face from Gil'ead. I should have captured you then and saved myself the trouble."

Andrar leaped forward without warning and chomped onto thin air. He roared as Durza's long blade sliced down his side, ripping a gash though his scales. With a few harsh words, the Shade commanded the Urgals to attack him. They quickly attacked and overcame the dragon who was useless on his own against such a large number. He twisted his head and shot fire towards Durza, which he merely sidestepped on his way to Mariah.

She paled and backed away slowly, her mind shutting down. Andrar roared at her and she blinked, gripping her sword tighter. Her body switched to a fighting stance and she stared at the Shade silently.

"You plan on fighting me?" He asked, amused. "I'm sure you're exhausted. A perfect time to take on a Shade."

"You're here to capture us and take us to the capital… which is why you aren't killing my dragon."

"Clever girl," Durza said. "You have it all figured out, don't you? Well then, save us the confrontation and come along, it'll be easier for all of us."

"That's where you're wrong. I'm not going anywhere near the capital against my will alive. You're going to have to kill me first. I'm sure Galbatorix has no use for a corpse."

"Neither does anyone else," he reminded her. "You'll be of no use to anyone dead and right now, no one else is here to help you. It's just you and me… no brother."

Her knees buckled slightly at the thought.

"No friends. All alone."

Mariah wished she would have waited for Mark.

"You can't stop me." Durza flicked his hand towards her, uttering a few words and throwing her back against the wall. Her hands went to her throat as it constricted, her sword falling to the ground.

She tried clearing her mind, but the only thoughts passing through it were trying to keep her alive and breathing.

"I have a few questions for you; I hope you don't mind waiting there while I find the answers." Durza told her, invading her memories and sifting through them like a rat, leaving scratches everywhere.

Her eyes unfocused as her breathing grew harder, a movement caught her attention and she slowly focused on it. Someone blonde was staggering to their feet. He looked familiar. She blinked and saw him notice her, drawing a red sword and shouting. Mariah heard nothing but her own blood pounding in her ears.

Durza snarled, his eyes burning with rage. He narrowed his eyes at her and she watched as his mouth moved rapidly. The words didn't make sense in her head. As he finished speaking her body went rigid and her mind went blank. Turning around, Durza let her drop to the floor. She stared at her dragon for a moment before her vision went black.

* * *

Aluora snorted, trotting in place, looking at the gate. Mark snarled a bit and jumped off her back, dragging her over to a post and tying her reins to it. "Stydja." He looked at the locked doors again. They were locked tight and he didn't want to waste the energy bursting through them. Instead, he rushed the wall of the gate and ran up the side, using as little magic as he could manage to get to the top. Once his fingers hit the edge, he pulled himself over and jumped down. He landed on a stack of hay nearby the stables and immediately ran for the central cavern of Tronjheim.

"You're taking too long, something's wrong, hurry faster," he muttered, turning a corner and running up the stairs three at a time.

Mark skidded to a halt at the top of the stairs, frozen as he stared at the scene before him. Two dozen Urgals were on top of Andrar, pinning him there and prodding his scales, making him bleed. Mariah's body was lying on the ground against the wall in a pool of blood – clearly her own. Then there was the Shade, standing over Eragon, prepared to kill him. A steady flow of blood was rushing from the boy's back though he still had his sword gripped tightly in his hand.

Overhead there was a thunderous shattering noise and Mark looked upward. Saphira was crashing through the Star Sapphire – shattered into a thousand jagged pieces – with Arya on her back. The Shade lifted his head, then his hand, pointing towards Saphira. The dragoness roared and released a stream of yellow-blue flames from her jaws. In the moment his eyes moved from Eragon, the boy lifted his sword.

"Brisinger!"

The flaming Zar'roc pierced through Durza's chest and he howled. Desperately, he tried pulling the sword from his heart to no avail. He turned transparent and shrieked even louder as the darkness under his skin pulsated and exploded, three separate entities flying through Tronjheim's walls, leaving nothing left of the Shade.

Coming back into his own mind, Mark shouted and ran forward, watching as Arya slowed the falling shards of sapphire and lowered them to the ground. Saphira landed and immediately rushed to the Urgals on top of Andrar. Once Durza had been defeated, they started dispersing, but several hadn't been quick enough for her new found flames.

Mark ran to his sister, kneeling in the pool of blood and running his fingers over her skin. There were gashes on every inch of her. On her face, over her eyes, lips, and fingers… he felt he couldn't work fast enough. Pulling extra energy from his ring, he tried slipping into her mind only to find it blank and thoughtless. Only when all her visible wounds were healed did he stop. Picking her up, he turned around to look at the others.

Arya was kneeling over Eragon, though she appeared quite weak herself. Andrar was lying motionless on the floor surrounded by Urgal corpses and blood. Saphira was resting beside him, staring at her rider unblinking. "The battle will be ending soon, we need to move them." Arya looked up at him and he nodded.

"Where?"

She blinked and looked up as a curly brown haired woman walked into the room, followed by a young ragged looking boy with a knife. "Come with me." Mark stared at the woman for a moment, unmoving. "Hurry up; otherwise you won't have a sister left to save."

Mark looked at Arya and Eragon. The she-elf blinked and shook her head. "I can't carry him."

"Well good, soldiers, thank goodness." The woman snapped at them, "You there, help me carry the dragon rider." The two of them hurried over to her. "I need one of you to carry him, the other needs to inform Hrothgar, Ajihad or someone else who cares that both the dragons are injured and need help immediately here." One of them nodded and turned, running out of Tronjheim again. The woman smiled and chuckled under her breath gleefully before she snapped back at the other one. "Hurry up now, follow me."

He hurried and followed the women out of Tronjheim with Mark following, carrying his sister. Arya trotting behind them.

"The dragons will be found soon enough, the others are returning now," she turned and walked up a staircase quickly. Arya and Mark followed her through the empty streets until they came to a door. She opened it and pointed to a bed. "There. Lay him down. The girl down the hall, that room. Arya, sit down please."

"Move aside, move aside," the woman brushed past the soldier to take a look at Eragon. He stepped backward, blinking before turning and walking back outside.

Arya sat as Mark vanished down a hall with Mariah. He laid her down gently, brushing her hair back and biting his lip.

Mark let out a breath and sat down next to her on the edge of the bed. "Oh Mariah…" He put his face in his hands and rubbed his eyes. "Damnit…"

* * *

"Wake." She paused, "Awake, Eragon, for you have slept far too long." Angela blinked, "Rise, Argetlam! You are needed!"

Slowly, he opened his eyes.

"How do you feel?" Angela asked, staring at his face intently.

His eyes looked over the small room, "I… I don't know," he said.

"Then don't move. You should conserve your strength," said Angela, running a hand through her curly hair. He burst into a coughing fit. Angela lifted a gilt horn from the floor and held it to his lips. "Here, drink."

Eragon coughed again and clenched his eyes shut. "Sahpira!" He exclaimed, sitting upright. He sagged backward, dizzy. "What about Saphira? Is she all right? The Urgals were winning… she was falling. And Arya!"

"They lived," assured Angela, "and have been waiting for you to wake. Do you wish to see them?"

He nodded feebly.

She got up and threw open the door. Aryan d Murtagh filed inside. Saphira snaked her head into the room after them, her body too big to fit through the doorway. Her chest vibrated as she hummed deeply, eyes sparkling.

He smiled weakly, then looked at Arya and Murtagh. Both of them were bandaged: Arya on her arm, Murtagh around his head. Murtagh grinned widely. "About time you were up. We've been sitting in the hall for hours."

"What… what happened?" asked Eragon.

Arya looked sad. But Murtagh crowed, "We won! It was incredible! When the Shade's spirits – if that's what they were – flew across Farthen Dur, the Urgals ceased fighting to watch them go. It was as though they were released from a spell then, because their clans suddenly turned and attacked each other. Their entire army disintegrated within minutes. We routed them after that!"

"They're all dead?" asked Eragon.

Murtagh shook his head. "No, many of them escaped into the tunnels. The Varden and dwarves are busy ferreting them out right now, but it's going to take a while. I was helping until an Urgal banged me on the head and I was sent back here."

"They aren't going to lock you up again?"

His face grew sober. "No one really cares about that right now. A lot of the Varden and dwarves were killed; the survivors are busy trying to recover from the battle. But at least you have cause to be happy. You're a hero! Everyone's talking about how you killed Durza. If it hadn't been for you, we would have lost."

"Where were the Twins? They weren't where they were supposed to be – I couldn't contact them. I needed their help."

Murtagh shrugged. "I was told they bravely fought off a group of Urgals that broke into Tronjheim somewhere else. They were probably too busy to talk with you."

He turned to Arya. "How come you didn't crash? You and Saphira were…" His voice trailed off.

She said slowly, "When you warned Saphira of Durza, I was still trying to remove her damaged armor. By the time it was off, it was too late to slide down Vol Turin – you would have been captured before I reached the bottom. Besides, Durza would have killed you before letting me rescue you." Regret entered her voice, "So I did the one thing I could to distract him: I broke the star sapphire."

"But why didn't any of the pieces hit you or me?"

"I didn't allow them to. When we were almost to the floor, I held them motionless in the air, then slowly lowered them to the floor – else they would have shattered into a thousand pieces and killed you," stated Arya simply.

Angela added sourly, "Yes, and it almost killed you as well. It's taken all of my skill to keep the two of you alive."

"How long have I been here?"

"Only a day and a half," answered Angela. "You're lucky I was around, otherwise it would've taken you weeks to heal – if you had even lived." Alarmed, Eragon pushed the blankets off his torso and twisted around to feel his back. Angela caught his wrist with her small hand, worry reflected in her eyes. "Eragon… you have to understand, my power is not like yours or Arya's. It depends on the use of herbs and potions. There are limits to what I can do, especially with such a large-"

He yanked his hand out of her grip and reached back, fingers groping. His eyes widened when they touched the scar on his back, tracing it from his right shoulder, to his left hip. The scar was raised and nearly half an inch wide where Durza's blade had sliced his back open.

"You have paid a terrible price for your deed, Eragon Shadeslayer." Arya said sadly.

Murtagh laughed harshly. "Yes. Now you're just like me."

He closed his eyes and sighed.

"It could be worse you know," Murtagh pointed out.

"You can stop reminding me… please?"

He shook his head, "Fine."

He sat there a moment, trying to figure out what to do next when he realized something. "Where's Mariah?" Eragon asked, looking at Arya, then Angela.

"In the room down the hall..." Angela said. "She's… waiting."

He stood up, waving Angela away as she tried to restrain him. Beads of sweat dripping down his face. Murtagh walked over and pushed him back down with one hand.

"You shouldn't be moving yet."

"I'm fine. I want to see her. The last time I saw her Durza was… I need to see her."

He flicked his eyes toward Arya for a moment and sighed. "You shouldn't."

"Why not?" Eragon asked, meeting Murtagh's gaze. "Sh-she's not…" His face paled, immediately draining of blood. "She can't be dead."

"Mark's with her. He tried everything he could think of, but she won't wake up. Arya even came up with a few ideas. I think he's hoping you can figure something out."

"You can't stop me. I'm going to see her." Eragon said firmly, attempting to get up again. He strained and Murtagh sighed, helping him up, wrapping an arm around his shoulders. "…thanks."

"Don't thank me. You're probably going to pass out before we get there."

Sure enough, the next time Eragon woke it was a day later. He blinked at the ceiling and moaned before immediately trying to get up again. He felt stronger than he had the day before, tenfold. As he sat up, he realized he would have no problem getting to Mariah's room. Looking out the door, he realized the entire place was now empty. Hurrying down the hall, he stopped at a closed door. The remnants of bloody footprints were still on the floor, though it appeared someone had tried vigorously to scrub it out. He stared at the wood for a moment, debating whether or not to knock. Quietly, he pushed the door open and looked inside.

Mark was sitting in a chair next to the bed, leaning forward with his hands clasped together. His eyes were black with lack of sleep and he was still wearing armor from the battle three days ago. Blood was matting his hair down in spots and his sword sat in its sheath at his hip. Eragon swallowed and turned his gaze toward Mariah.

She was ashen, completely devoid of color. For a moment he panicked, believing that he might have slept through the only opportunity to wake her. Then he saw her chest rise slightly and he relaxed, walking into the room.

Snapping his head up, Mark blinked. Clearing his throat, he spoke, hoarse, "Eragon…"

"You haven't slept."

"At the moment… she's doing enough for both of us."

"What's… what's wrong with her?"

"I honestly can't tell you." He said sullen. After he cleared his throat again, he stood. "I didn't want to leave her with anyone else."

"You should rest," Eragon nodded. "I'm alright now. I'll stay and try to figure out what's wrong."

Mark walked over to him and set a hand on his shoulder. "Call me if you need anything." Eragon nodded and Mark squeezed his shoulder slightly before walking out of the room, closing the door quietly.

"Mariah," he said, walking to her side and sitting on the edge of the bed. "Wake up…" Eragon said, brushing her hair back. "Please?" His mind flashed back to the last time he saw her. Durza was holding her against the wall, her feet ten feet off the ground. As soon as he'd drawn his sword and attacked, the Shade had done something… said a spell, her skin immediately started spurting blood. It had looked like a thousand invisible knives had sliced her everywhere all at once.

He took her hand gently, turning it over in his hands, "I remember… that night you helped save me… Brom told me you carried me back. I remember… everything. I… I never wanted to say anything because you… you're my best friend." He felt his eyes clouding with water. Tears slipped down his face. He leaned over, pressing his forehead against hers. "Mariah… please wake up… if you don't… you won't ever get to hear me say that I love you too…"

* * *

**End  
**

**A Rider's Blood**

* * *

Stydja – stay, rest, remain

* * *

I hope you enjoyed this. I had fun. This last chapter was tough; I didn't know where I wanted to end it. Or even how I wanted to end it. On a cliffhanger? I think so.

**As of right now, I have two options:**

** Add an Epilogue to this story and be done with it **

**OR **

**Start Part II**

I'd appreciate your feedback. Do you want to keep reading? Yes or No

With Love, As Always

Mariah


	43. Author Comments

I can't honestly tell myself I expected so much feed back, and not so quickly in the least.

Yes, an Epilogue would be the easy way out, wouldn't it?

Writing part II, III, and IV would take a while, but I could get it done...

Here's the consensus. Out of 11 reviews I got, both anonymous and not... ...write Part II... I think it's nearly unanimous.

So guess what I've decided to do?

...write part II. I'll post it as soon as I've finished the prolog. (The prolog was actually going to be the Epilogue for this one... but due to the comments, I'm gonna have to change it around a little I think...)

I'll actually put up the front page information sheet like I did for this one tonight. Right after I finish writing this...

I do have a question though... how attached to the book's storyline are you?

I don't particularly like the way it plays out, but I didn't want to stray too far from the first book's storyline, because I believe it to be the best out of the four.

Forget it... I'll just write it, and if you don't like the way it's turning out, tell me. I'll change it.

There's quite a few kinks I've already come across in my head... so it might take me a while to find a good solution to the problems...

**Thank you so much for your time and support. Forty plus chapters is a lot to read. It's a lot to type... but I'm so very happy you stayed until the end.**

_**With Love, As Always,  
**_

_**Mariah****  
**_

* * *

RestrainedFreedom - You once again made my life difficult. I appreciate your long answer, you addressed many of my own concerns. Thank you. I also disagree with the direction that Chris Paolini took the stories into. It took me forever just to finish Brisinger... I still haven't read Inheritance, but I do know what happens, and I don't particularly like the sounds of any of it.

Hakoiri - Since when do I get shippers? I never thought about people actually rooting for one person or the other... I wish everyone would tell me who they ship, it would make pleasing you all so much easier. Haha.

Luke - It makes me smile when you say I'm one of the best writers on this site. I look up to lots of people here, and I really appreciate it. I don't think you realize how much it means to me.


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